


Dragon Age: King In Exile

by ShootingStar7123



Category: Dragon Age (Video Games), Dragon Age - All Media Types, Dragon Age: Origins
Genre: Action, Action & Romance, Action/Adventure, Adventure, Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Drama, F/M, Friendship, Humor, Responsibility, Romance, Royalty, Trauma
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-10-21
Updated: 2020-10-17
Packaged: 2020-12-27 20:03:41
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 17
Words: 36,597
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21124454
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ShootingStar7123/pseuds/ShootingStar7123
Summary: King Cailan has written Alistair into the succession and is ready to recognize him publicly. Loghain will do almost anything to keep that from happening. The darkspawn give him the perfect opportunity. Origins with a twist. Alistair/Cousland, featuring F!Tabris as the Warden.





	1. Chapter 1

Alistair Theirin had always known what it meant to be the king’s bastard. Unimportant. Unwanted. He wasn’t to dream of fatherly love, of palace larders, or of soft royal beds. He should be grateful for everything he was given, no matter how little it was. Alistair had accepted that, and had never imagined life could be different—not until six months ago, at least. That was when everything changed.

His templar training had been going as well as it could, all things considered. They hadn’t managed to coax any real religious fervor from him, but he shone when handed a sword and shield. His attitude got him in trouble more often than not, but the chantry never missed out on a chance to show off their best and brightest. That was the only reason he was permitted to participate in the tournament.

Alistair relished the chance to exercise his skills against some new opponents, and he was even more excited once he heard the commander of the grey wardens would be in attendance.

His instructors were right about one thing—he had no ambition to become a templar. He enjoyed the training but hated the quiet and seriousness and prayer. He hated, most of all, the idea of killing mages, no matter how much the chantry had tried to dehumanize them. He would do nearly anything to avoid such a fate. So he gave the tournament everything he had. He wasn’t interested in impressing the nobility that was in attendance, nor the king, nor the grand cleric. He only had eyes for the warden commander.

Though he didn’t win the tournament, he had performed well and fought with spirit and determination. He studied Commander Duncan’s expression, hoping that he had made an impression. When he was told the next morning that he had a visitor waiting for him, he was sure it must be Duncan. Hope surged within him that his wish to leave the templars might come true.

But when he entered the room, he didn’t see a tall, dark Rivaini. He met a face that was nearly a mirror image of his own.

“I’ve always wanted to meet you,” Cailan said, smiling.

_Oh, Maker._ Alistair dropped to one knee. “Your Majesty,” he said, his heart racing.

“Please,” Cailan said, reaching down to pull Alistair to his feet. “We are brothers, after all.”

“It’s an honor,” Alistair managed, before blurting out, “Why are you here?”

“Well, Alistair,” Cailan began, ignoring his brother’s discomfort, “Like I said, I have always wanted to meet you. I longed for siblings when I was younger. But that was not to be.” He paced across the room.

Alistair held back a frown, wondering if this was just some whim of the king’s, to meet his mysterious bastard brother.

“I would like to get to know you,” Cailan said. “Truly. I would have gotten you out of the chantry sooner if it hadn’t required so much politicking.” He laughed at Alistair’s baffled expression. “You don’t see yourself as valuable?” Cailan asked, and smiled. “The chantry does. But that is beside the point.”

Cailan paced. “I have been married five years and have no children. You are the only person who shares my bloodline. Simply put, Alistair, I want to acknowledge you as my heir.”

Alistair felt as if the world had fallen out from under him. He couldn’t catch his breath.

“Damn it,” he faintly heard Cailan murmur. “Should have eased into it like Anora said.”

A firm hand pressed against Alistair’s back. “Breathe,” Cailan said. “I know this must be a shock to you.”

“I—” Alistair squeaked out. “I was always told I had no claim to the throne. That I could never aspire to it,” he said, quickly adding, “Which was fine! I never wanted to rule anything!” His heart was racing, palms sweating. He looked up into Cailan’s eyes, totally bewildered. “Why in Thedas would you ever want _me_?”

Cailan betrayed little surprise at Alistair’s outburst, only giving his brother a wry smile. “I’ve had my eye on you for some time,” he told him. “I’ve seen that you’re a good man who cares about things that matter. You’re honest and trustworthy and give your all if you find something worth your while. You’re smart, though you hide it well—which may be a family trait,” he said, smirking. “You have every quality that will make for a good king if it comes to that. That’s why I want you as my heir.”

Alistair was beyond bewildered now. He’d never been told he was good for anything except swinging a sword. He was absolutely terrified at the idea of ruling the country. But there was a part of him, deep inside, that longed for the brotherly relationship that Cailan seemed to be offering. He’d wanted to be part of a family for so long.

“Take some time,” Cailan said gently. “I know you’ll need to get used to the idea. I can come visit you again tomorrow and we will begin making plans.”

“Yes, Your Majesty,” Alistair said, relieved.

“Cailan,” the king corrected. “Call me Cailan. We are brothers, after all.” He smiled.

“Cailan,” Alistair agreed, and smiled back despite his discomfort. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”

The king clapped him on the shoulder, and he was gone.

Alistair slid down into a chair and stared at nothing, his mind racing a million miles a minute.

He huffed a quiet laugh. _Well… I did want to get out of the chantry._

…

Bryce Cousland, teyrn of Highever, thought nothing of the king requesting a meeting with him. He had always tried his best to help Cailan when possible, especially once the young man lost his father. His own son, Fergus, was of a similar age and the two had long been friends.

He _was_ surprised, however, when Cailan sprung a plan on him that centered around bringing his bastard brother to court—under Bryce’s tutelage.

“You wish me to mentor this young man?” Bryce Cousland asked, looking across the table to his king.

Cailan took a sip of wine. “Alistair needs to learn about court etiquette and behavior before I throw him to the wolves, so to speak.”

Bryce’s eyes crinkled, his lips curving into a smile. “Court isn’t quite as bad as that. This isn’t Orlais or Antiva.”

“Perhaps, but it will be hard enough for him already. People know he is a bastard and will treat him as such, despite being named my heir. He’s learned too much subservient behavior in the templars and thinks far too little of himself. He needs to learn how to command the respect he deserves as my brother and heir.”

Bryce nodded, his mind racing towards several conclusions. “If you think he can learn that from me, then I will be happy to tutor him, and in running a teyrnir besides. I suppose you are working on Loghain?”

Cailan laughed. “You see right through me, Bryce. Yes, the teyrnir of Gwaren would be perfect for him, if he does not succeed me on the throne. It is rather an uphill battle with Loghain, I’m afraid. But I do believe that with time, Alistair will convince him of his own merits. He is an excellent young man,” the king said, adding slyly, “And he will make a lucky young woman an excellent husband one day.”

“You’re speaking of Elissa,” Bryce said bluntly, never one to talk in riddles. He leaned back in his seat. “Are you asking me to betroth my daughter to him, sight unseen?”

“I did not say that,” Cailan replied carefully. “But it would be a good match.”

“I won’t marry her off to someone I don’t know,” Bryce insisted. “Even if he is a prince.”

“I’m not going to order it of you,” Cailan reassured him. “But I want you to consider it. Meet him, mentor him, and see what you think. I guarantee you will not be disappointed.”

“Very well, your majesty,” Bryce said with a sigh, understanding what was expected of him. “How long will you give me before you wish to bring him to court?”

“I’d like to present him at the next spring landsmeet. Perhaps he could study with you until then? That will give you the large part of a year.”

“That isn’t a great deal of time in the grand scheme of things,” Bryce warned.

“Long enough to give him a start. He can pick things up quickly when he has a mind to.”

“I guess I’ll see that for myself soon, won’t I?” Bryce laughed, shaking his head. “Only you would come up with such a scheme. And no doubt you will pull it off as well.”

Cailan smiled widely. “With your help, I will! Thank you, Bryce. This takes quite a burden off my mind,” he said, reaching across the table to shake hands. “Now, have you heard anything new about these darkspawn rumors?”

…

After so many monotonous days in the chantry, Alistair was overwhelmed by how quickly things changed. Within a week he was removed from the chantry and taken to Teyrn Cousland’s Denerim manor to be outfitted for his trip. He spent a fortnight in a whirlwind of shopping trips and meetings, being introduced to a select few people who were close to the king.

He met the stern and taciturn Loghain, who all but ignored him. The elegant Anora who kissed his cheek and called him “brother”. A few arls and banns who were good at keeping secrets. And then before he knew it, he was traveling to Highever, riding between a teyrn and a king and wondering how in Thedas he got there.

Before long, Cailan left him in the Couslands’ hands, to learn about court life and ruling a teyrnir. But it didn’t take long before Bryce’s hearty kindness and Eleanor’s motherly ways had made him feel more at home than anywhere he’d lived before. And their beautiful daughter Elissa didn’t hurt matters one bit.

Every day he worked harder than he’d ever worked at the Chantry, trying to soak up as much information as possible. He tailed Bryce and his heir Fergus as they went about their daily work, drilling facts and figures about Ferelden with Brother Aldous in nearly every spare moment.

When he had time to himself, he chose to take it in the training yard, practicing his swordwork with Fergus and, surprisingly, Elissa. “My mother fought in the rebellion,” she had said, tossing her long blonde hair over her shoulder. “So why shouldn’t I learn as well?” Like her mother, her true talent seemed to be with a bow and arrow rather than with sword and shield, but she was insistent that every warrior should know both. With her help, his aim became better than it had ever been under the trainers at the Chantry, who had once called him hopeless with a bow.

Alistair became closer to all of them as the time passed, feeling as if they were the family he’d never had. He delighted in little Oren, exchanged brotherly jibes with Fergus, and happily accepted the parental treatment he received from Bryce and Eleanor. But Elissa… no, his feelings for her were not brotherly at all.

A few months into his stay with the Couslands, they all went to Denerim for the fall landsmeet. Alistair was relieved to learn that he would not be presented to the court until the spring, but wondered at the many secretive conferences between Bryce and Cailan. He and Cailan had become closer, exchanging letters while he was away and now spending as much time together as they could without raising the suspicions of the landsmeet. Alistair was quietly introduced to a few more members of the nobility that Cailan trusted, slowly setting him up for success when he was presented in the spring. Many of the nobles knew of Alistair’s existence, but few were aware of what Cailan was planning.

One of Calian’s plans, however, had already come to fruition. Alistair and Elissa were told that Bryce and Cailan had signed a contract of betrothal for the two of them, which would also be announced at the spring landsmeet. Alistair looked at Elissa to gauge her reaction, and by the blush and hint of a smile on her face, he thought she might not be averse to the idea.

While their families were busy with the landsmeet, Alistair began to woo her in little ways, bringing her small gifts of flowers he found or holding her hand sometimes when they were alone together. By the time they returned to Highever, they had progressed to shy kisses and cautious caresses when they knew they wouldn’t be seen. In truth, they were both inexperienced with love and passion, each sheltered from the world in different ways.

They were growing together, living in a bubble of their own happiness, until the news broke a few months later. Rumors of darkspawn had become fact, and all landowners must gather their troops for an attack in the south.

Alistair’s lessons in ruling took an entirely new turn as he watched Bryce preparing his teyrnir for the possibility of war.

Armies were assembled, plans were formed, and the days moved forward in a steady rhythm until the eve of Fergus and Bryce’s trip to Ostagar. Alistair had campaigned long and hard to be allowed to join them, but Cailan had been firm that there was no point in him naming Alistair as heir if he was going to immediately risk him in battle with the darkspawn. Instead, he and Elissa had been given the task of running the teyrnir in Bryce’s absence.

Alistair understood the reasoning, but he still felt the need to work out some of his frustrations on a training dummy the morning Fergus and Bryce planned to leave. On his way back to his chambers, Alistair was stopped by Bryce’s voice calling to him.

“Your highness,” he said, and Alistair was immediately aware that something was afoot. In the privacy of the family, Bryce had always called him by his name, not his title.

Alistair approached, seeing the teyrn with another gentleman that he did not recognize.

“Your highness, I would like you to meet Arl Howe of Amaranthine. He will be riding with Fergus and I today—that is, if his men aren’t delayed again.”

Alistair inclined his head towards the arl, but didn’t make the deep bow he would have made a few months ago. “Arl Howe, a pleasure to meet you.”

“Likewise, Your highness,” Howe replied, and while his formal bow was correct, there was something in his voice that made Alistair uncomfortable. Howe turned back to Bryce. “Is your daughter here as well?”

“She is around here somewhere,” Bryce said with a smile.

“She should be coming in from the training yard any minute now. She was almost out of arrows when I left,” Alistair said with a smile.

Howe glanced at Alistair with narrowed eyes, but Bryce missed the look entirely. “There she is now,” the teyrn said, looking behind Alistair. “Pup,” he called.

Elissa approached slowly, putting a placid smile on her face.

“Delightful to see you again, my dear,” Arl Howe said.

“The pleasure is mine, my lord,” she replied, but there was no warmth in her voice.

“My son Thomas was asking after you the other day,” Howe said. “Perhaps I can bring him by sometime.”

“He is sixteen now, is he not?” Howe’s smile became strained, but Elissa’s placid one stayed the same. “Please tell him I said hello.”

“Of course, dear,” Howe said.

Bryce cut in. “You two had better go get cleaned up in time to say a proper goodbye to Fergus. Go on now.” He smiled.

Elissa’s smile turned real. “Of course, Father,” she said, and turned to go with Alistair following along behind her.

As they walked away, Howe turned to Bryce with amusement. “You treat them like a pair of children. You know Elissa is old enough to be married by now.”

Bryce laughed. “Old habits die hard, my friend. Old habits die hard.”

When Alistair and Elissa had bathed and dressed, they learned that Fergus would be taking the Highever soldiers ahead while Bryce waited for Howe’s troops to arrive.

As they prepared for Fergus to leave, Alistair teased to keep the atmosphere light, hoping he could ease Oriana’s apparent worry. Oren didn’t realize the danger, only got caught up in the excitement, begging his father to bring him back a darkspawn sword.

Fergus left at midday, and the afternoon and evening were restless and subdued. Alistair was glad to go to bed that night, if only to escape the worry that permeated everything. He only hoped it wouldn’t seep into his dreams as well.

…


	2. Chapter 2

Elissa woke with a start. She looked around for what had woken her, finding only her mabari, Kitty, staring intently at her closed bedroom door. He let out a low growl.

She climbed out of bed, taking a few tentative steps towards the door. As she approached she could just make out the sounds of movement outside in the corridor. She gasped at the sudden sound of clashing steel. A swordfight in the hallway could mean only one thing. The castle was under attack!

Before she could decide on a course of action, the door to her chambers swung open to reveal Alistair in loose pants and a tunic shirt, blood-splattered sword in hand. “Thank the Maker you’re alright,” he said, his expression one of stark relief. He pulled her into a one-armed embrace. “We’re under attack,” he said unnecessarily, and glanced back at the soldier he’d killed. “Oh Maker,” he said, turning white, as if he’d only now realized what he’d done.

Elissa followed his look, then moved to close the door. “You didn’t have a choice,” she said.

“I know,” he replied, but he still seemed sick at the sight.

After a moment, Elissa moved to her armor stand and began to strap the pieces on. Alistair blushed a violent red and turned his back, only then realizing she was in nothing but her smallclothes.

Under other circumstances this would have made her smile, but her mind was focused only on the danger that had befallen them. “Alistair, you need to go get your armor on right away. I can meet you back by your chambers once I finish here and check on my parents.”

Future king or not, he still took orders well, and Alistair went immediately to do as she said. Once Elissa had put on her armor and bound up her long hair, she stepped into the hallway. A lump caught in her throat as she saw the bodies of castle guards she had known for years, dead on the ground. She took a deep breath to refocus herself, then went to the door of her parents’ room. She knocked. “Mother?”

She could hear movement inside, and a few moments later, her mother came out in a full set of leather armor, bow in hand. “Darling! I heard fighting outside and feared the worst. Are you hurt?”

Elissa shook her head. “I’m unharmed. One of them tried to get to me, but Alistair killed him before he reached my door. He’s just gone now to put on his armor.” She looked over her mother’s shoulder at the empty room. “Where is Father?”

“He never came to bed. We must find him!” Eleanor looked worried. “We need to check on Oren and Oriana as well.”

As she turned to see the slightly cracked door to Fergus and Oriana’s family chambers, Elissa felt a strong sense of foreboding. The silence behind the door only increased that feeling as she approached. Her heart dropped into her boots. She feared what she would find.

She bit back a scream at the sight of her sister-in-law and nephew with their throats slit, but she couldn’t stop the tears that were forming in her eyes. “Mother,” she said, backing away slowly, “Don’t—”

Her mother rushed past her, kneeling at Oren’s bedside. “Oren!” she cried out in anguish. “My poor, sweet boy,” she wept.

Elissa raised her bow at the sound of armor clanking in the hallway, but only saw Alistair rushing towards them. One look at his face confirmed that he had heard her mother’s cry. He stopped short in the doorway of the room, his amber eyes widening at the horrible sight.

“Poor Fergus,” Eleanor sobbed. “Whoever is responsible for this, I’ll make them pay,” she said, climbing back to her feet.

“The men,” Alistair said suddenly, and both women looked at him. He swallowed. “They’re wearing Arl Howe’s sigil.” He pointed at the shield held by the dead soldier in the corridor.

“His men were delayed on purpose!” Eleanor said in shock. “That bastard! He’s betrayed us!”

“Mother,” Elissa said, “We have to keep moving. We have to find Father! Howe will pay for this. I’ll make sure of it.” Her eyes held a haunting darkness that Alistair had never before seen.

When they left the living quarters, they were shocked at the devastation. There were fires burning, bodies everywhere, and anyone who could fight was doing so. “The castle has fallen!” cried one servant, and the three of them looked at each other in dismay.

“We must still find your father,” Eleanor said firmly. “But if the castle truly has fallen, there are some family heirlooms we should protect before we make our escape.”

They stopped by the vault, ignoring most of the gold and jewels. Eleanor reverently handed Elissa a sword. “This sword has been in the family for hundreds of years. We can’t leave this for Howe’s men.”

While Elissa was distracted, Eleanor turned to Alistair and placed something in his hand. “These rings belonged to Elissa’s grandparents. We thought you might wish to have them for your wedding rings.”

Alistair looked down at the rings in astonishment, then up to Eleanor. “I would be honored, my lady.”

The three of them fought their way to the main gate, where most of the guard was stationed, trying their best to hold the gate for as long as possible.

Ser Gilmore met them there. “Thank the Maker you are safe!” he cried out. “Did any of Howe’s men get through to you?”

“They killed Oriana and Oren. Without his highness, I might have lost my daughter as well,” Eleanor said, motioning to Alistair. He looked at his boots, uncomfortable with the teyrna’s praise.

“When I realized what was happening, it was all we could do to get the gates closed. But they won’t hold forever. I’d suggest taking the servants’ exit as quickly as possible, before the rest of Howe’s men get through,” Ser Gilmore insisted.

“Not without Father!” Elissa cried.

The knight’s face turned grim. “I saw the teyrn not long ago, but he’d been wounded. He went towards the kitchens, hoping to meet you there.”

“Thank you, Ser Gilmore,” Eleanor said. “Maker watch over you.”

He nodded solemnly. “Maker watch over us all.”

They made their way as quickly as possible to the servants’ exit in the kitchens, hoping that Bryce was still there. Elissa swallowed hard as she saw the bodies of the kitchen servants. Nan had practically raised her, and now her lifeless body was strewn across the stone floor. But there was no time for grief. They headed straight through, into the larder.

Bryce Cousland was sprawled on the floor, hand pressed into his side where a bloodstain grew. “Bryce!” cried Eleanor as she ran to him, Elissa hot on her heels.

“There you all are,” the teyrn said in a broken voice. “I was hoping you would make it here.”

“Oh, Papa,” Elissa said softly, tears running down her face. Alistair approached slowly, standing sentry behind her.

“Howe’s men found me in the study,” Bryce explained. “Tried to do me in quickly.” He gave a harsh laugh. “They only managed to do it slowly.”

“Don’t talk like that!” Eleanor snapped. “We’ll get you out of here.”

“Eleanor.” His voice was soft but firm, and she began weeping.

“Someone must reach Fergus,” Bryce continued. “Tell him what has happened.”

“You can tell him yourself, Father,” Elissa insisted.

“My dear girl,” he said. “I wish I could.”

There was a loud crashing sound, the castle shook, and all of them knew that the gates had broken. Elissa’s hound began growling at the larder door. “You must go now,” Bryce insisted. “Before they find us here.”

Alistair turned to the teyrna, who, instead of rising to leave, was settling in beside her husband. “Come with us, my lady,” he said urgently. He glanced over at Elissa, who was kneeling in front of her father, tears streaming down her face. “Please.” _For her sake._

Eleanor smiled at him gently, sadly, and looked at Bryce beside her. “My place is with my husband.” She reached out and cupped Alistair’s cheek. “You will understand someday. Take good care of my daughter.”

“I promise,” he said, tears burning in his eyes.

The sounds of battle were getting closer. Alistair reached out for Elissa’s hand. After a moment of hesitation, she took it, allowing him to help her up. “I love you,” she called to her parents, before Alistair could drag her to safety.

They ran, numb and terrified, until they were far enough from the castle to escape detection. Elissa dropped down onto the cold, hard ground of the forest and listened to the sounds of her world going up in flames.

Alistair sat down beside her, barely able to make out her soft green eyes in the starlight.

“What do we do now?” Elissa uttered, her voice cracking and devastated.

“I don’t know,” Alistair said, still in shock. And Elissa fell against his chest, sobbing.

He held her and stroked her hair, murmuring words of comfort. And when she had cried herself to sleep, he shed tears of his own for the first people who had ever treated him as family.

…


	3. Chapter 3

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DAO celebrated its 10th birthday earlier this week! This was the first game that got me into modern gaming. It taught me how to play dual analog! I watched my husband play through “that game with the blood” until his city elf got dumped at the landsmeet. That was the moment I said to myself “I have to play that game.”

Eight days after the attack on Highever, Alistair and Elissa approached Ostagar. They could see a group coming to meet them, and it didn’t take long to realize that Cailan was at the head of it, followed by the royal guards.

“Maker’s breath, what has happened?” Cailan asked as soon as they were close enough, disregarding propriety completely. “Where is Teyrn Cousland? And Arl Howe?”

Alistair could see Elissa tense out of the corner of his eye.

“Arl Howe turned traitor and had his men attack the castle while we were sleeping,” Alistair explained shortly. “Lord and Lady Cousland are dead.” He swallowed thickly. Elissa’s mabari nuzzled his leg.

“Maker!” Cailan gasped. “Such treachery…” He turned his head away for a moment. When he turned back, his eyes were hard. “Howe will pay for what he’s done,” he said. “I assure you, Lady Elissa.”

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” she said, her voice shaky. “Fergus…”

Cailan looked pained. “I’m afraid your brother is not in camp at the moment. He took some of the Highever men to scout, and may not return until after the initial battle we expect tomorrow.”

“Oh,” she said softly. Alistair reached over to squeeze her hand.

Cailan gave the two of them a sympathetic look, then motioned for them to follow him into camp. “First things first—we need to get you set up with tents and supplies. The mess is down at the far end of camp,” he said, pointing. “You can get a meal there if you wish. There will be a strategy meeting tonight that I would like you both to attend now that you’re here, but until then, your time is your own. Once this battle is over, Fergus and I will discuss how to handle the situation.” Cailan gave Elissa an earnest look. “Though your betrothal may not be public knowledge, I consider your family my own, Lady Elissa. You will be well taken care of, and this injustice will not stand.”

Elissa nodded, unable to form a reply, and they continued on.

Alistair and Elissa waited as Cailan approached a group of guards, instructed two tents to be erected near his own, and spoke hastily to a woman who was clearly not a soldier.

The king turned to them. “This is Mistress Audra. She will look after both of your needs while you remain in camp. I apologize about the accommodations, but, of course we were not expecting you,” he said.

Elissa and Alistair looked at each other and shrugged. The tents were quite a bit larger than the ones pitched by the soldiers, and in truth they both felt fortunate to have tents at all. They had spent the last week sleeping exposed to the elements, curled into each other on the cold, hard ground.

“Feel free to wander the camp,” Calian continued. He indicated two of his guards. “Ser Royce will be your guard, Lady Elissa, and Ser Morton will guard you, Alistair.”

Elissa frowned. “Your Majesty, is that really necessary?”

“Perhaps not,” Cailan said with a small shrug, “But they will be at your disposal regardless, at least until they join their company for the battle tomorrow. If there is anything further that you need, please ask Mistress Audra. I will send someone to collect you both in time for the meeting this evening.” With a smile he strode off, as he had much to do to prepare for the following day’s battle.

Mistress Audra clapped her hands, gaining the pair’s attention. “As we speak, I have someone gathering bedrolls for each of you as well as a few basic supplies. If you think of anything further that you need, I’ll do my best to procure it for you. Now, his majesty has a bathing tent set up a small distance from the camp. He has given me leave to offer each of you a turn in it.”

Elissa produced her first smile since the attack on Highever. “That sounds wonderful, Mistress Audra.”

The woman smiled back and turned. “Follow me.”

…

Teyrn Loghain’s eyes widened, then narrowed at the sight of Alistair and Elissa as they approached the table for the strategy meeting. Loghain turned to Cailan. “What are they doing here? Those two are supposed to be safe in Highever!”

“Had you been around when I was looking for you earlier, you would already know,” Cailan scolded gently. “Howe turned traitor and attacked Castle Cousland. My brother and Lady Elissa were the only two to escape. They came to me—as they should have—to bring news of the attack and seek my guidance.”

Loghain cleared his throat. “Of course, Your Majesty. My apologies.”

Warden Commander Duncan approached Elissa. “I am sorry to hear about your parents, my lady. I knew your father to be an excellent man.”

“Thank you, ser,” she said, a slight waver in her voice.

Alistair and Elissa paid close attention as the strategy was laid out, but when it was fully explained, Alistair only had one remaining question. “Will Elissa and I be permitted to fight?”

Cailan and Loghain shared a look. Loghain shifted, saying, “Perhaps you could send them to light the beacon. While not a dangerous task, it is certainly a vital one. That way we will not have to rely on the Grey Wardens to do so.” He shot Duncan a mistrustful look, which the warden ignored.

“I would still like to send my newest recruit with them, general. She has not had time to train with the rest of the wardens yet.”

“If you must,” Loghain said grudgingly. “Before the battle, you must instruct all three of them in the signal that they will be waiting for.”

“It’s settled then!” Cailan said. “Alistair and Elissa will light the beacon, and I will march in the vanguard with the Grey Wardens.”

Alistair and Elissa exchanged a look of alarm. Loghain’s frown turned thunderous. “You risk too much, Cailan! The darkspawn horde is too dangerous for you to play hero on the front lines.”

“If that’s the case,” Cailan countered, “Then perhaps we should wait for the Orlesian forces to join us after all.” He raised a brow, baiting the general.

Loghain’s glare intensified, and he turned and stalked off without even a pretense of a goodbye.

“He’ll get over it,” Cailan said, eyes on the teyrn. “He always does. Now, perhaps you two should go with Duncan so he can instruct you on your task. Alistair,” he said, turning to his brother. “Come by my tent once you’re done.”

Duncan led them over to the grey warden camp, stopping once he reached the bonfire in the middle. “Kallian,” he called, and a small brunette elf seemed to melt out of the shadows.

“Commander?” she said coolly, and Duncan introduced them all before beginning to explain their task.

While Alistair and Elissa were annoyed to be kept out of the fighting, neither was willing to outwardly protest. Kallian had no such reservations.

“So you’re saying I won’t be in the battle?” she cried. “That’s bullshit!”

“Kallian,” Duncan said warningly, and the elf bowed her head.

She let out a huff. “I’ll do whatever you ask of me, Commander,” she said, but her voice was grudging.

“Thank you,” Duncan replied dryly. “Now why don’t the three of you get to know each other before you have to work side by side tomorrow?” He slipped away, the ghost of a smirk on his face.

Kallian looked them up and down, one after the other, and then at the guards who were still tailing them. “So I have to babysit two spoiled nobles?” she asked, looking disgusted as she twirled her daggers.

“Alistair is an incredible fighter,” Elissa protested. “The warden commander would have recruited him, but the king asked him not to.”

Alistair looked at Elissa in surprise. “Truly?”

She nodded, smiling. “His majesty told my father that. King Cailan was very proud—you know how he respects the Grey Wardens.”

“So just one spoiled noble then,” Kallian corrected.

“Hey, Elissa is an excellent shot,” Alistair argued. “We’ll both pull our weight. You’ll see.”

Kallian rolled her eyes and gave an exaggerated curtsy. “As you say, Your Highness.” She sighed. “Not that there will be any fighting anyhow.” She looked disgruntled at the thought for a moment before focusing back on the two in front of her. “Have either of you fought darkspawn before?” she asked. “If there _is_ fighting, I can’t have you two panicking at the first sight of them.”

“We haven’t,” Elissa said, “But I can’t imagine killing monsters will be harder than killing people.” She reached for Alistair’s hand and squeezed it, remembering both how easy and how hard it had been.

“Whatever,” Kallian said, tossing a dagger and catching it. “Just be at the mouth of the bridge by the time the battle starts.” And she walked away.

Alistair turned to Elissa. “Well, that was a breath of fresh air,” he said wryly.

Elissa laughed. “Yeah… tomorrow is going to be interesting. Come on. We should head back to the royal encampment. Cailan wanted to talk to you.”

Alistair tensed, and Elissa squeezed his hand. “He’s your brother. I’m sure he only wants to know how you are.”

He shrugged, giving Elissa a rueful smile, and the two of them walked back in silence. Alistair paused as they reached the tents. “Will you be alright by yourself?” he asked awkwardly. They had hardly been apart since they escaped Highever Castle.

“I’ll be fine.” She smiled bravely. “I have Kitty with me, after all,” she said, indicating her hound laying just outside her tent.

“Have I ever told you how ridiculous of a name that is for a dog? Where’s the dignity?” he teased.

Elissa rolled her eyes. “I thought it was a hilarious joke when I was twelve. I’m used to it now. You are too, boy, aren’t you?” She turned to the dog, giving him a smile.

The dog gave a long-suffering huff and laid his head down on his paws.

Alistair laughed. “That settles it. I’m calling you Kit. That’s a better name, isn’t it?”

“We’ll see about that,” Elissa said, shaking her head. “Now stop stalling and go see your brother.”

Alistair was nervous as he approached the king’s tent, but he was let inside immediately by the guard and greeted warmly by his brother. Cailan first asked for a more detailed accounting of the attack on Highever. Cailan’s expression was grave as he listened, stalking about the large tent in anger at a few points during Alistair’s story. Alistair did his best to reign in his grief, but he could see in Cailan’s eyes that his brother knew how much this had hurt him.

“I assure you,” Cailan said, “Once this is over, Arl Howe will hang and the Couslands will be restored to Highever.” He looked Alistair in the eye with a pained expression. “I know that doesn’t make up for the loss of Bryce and Eleanor, but it’s the least I can do. Is there anything I can do for Lady Elissa?”

Alistair shook his head. “The only thing that will help now is to reunite her with Fergus. And if I could stay nearby…” He paused and blushed.

Cailan grinned. “I see your betrothal is going well! I’m glad. I thought you two would suit.”

“We do,” Alistair said, and he blushed even harder.

Cailan couldn’t help but laugh. “Alright, I won’t press. But I am happy for you, brother.”

They went on to discuss what he’d been learning during his time in Highever, the plans for the spring landsmeet, and anything else that came to mind. Eventually, Cailan stretched and yawned. “Well, you’d better get to bed, Alistair. We are doing battle tomorrow, after all.”

Alistair got up, but paused before he left his brother’s tent. “Cailan…” He hesitated. “Are you sure you want to be on the front lines tomorrow?”

Cailan’s expression turned serious and he took a few steps away. When he spoke, his voice was contemplative. “You never experienced what it was like to grow up under our father’s shadow. He was a war hero who freed us from the Orlesians. His legacy is a lot to live up to.” He turned back to look at his brother. “When I ascended to the throne, there were many who did not believe I could take his place. I need to solidify my rule, Alistair. I need to be taken seriously.”

Alistair was shocked by all he’d heard. “It’s been five years! Surely any fears have been laid to rest by now.”

Cailan shrugged. “I hear no more murmurs of discontent but for my lack of heir. And yet, I don’t feel that my position is as secure as it could be. I need to prove myself. I need to be in the vanguard tomorrow.”

“I understand,” Alistair said with a sigh. “I just…” He paused. “I don’t want to lose you.” He began to ramble. “I mean, Elissa’s family felt like mine already and they’re gone, and you—”

Cailan held up a hand to stop him. “I understand, Alistair. I have every intention of surviving tomorrow’s battle. The plan is solid, and I’ll be surrounded by the best warriors the wardens have to offer. Everything will be fine.” He patted his brother on the back. “Now get some rest.”

Alistair headed back to his tent, still feeling unsettled. He changed into a new pair of loose drawstring pants that Mistress Audra had acquired for him, and laid down on his bedroll to try and sleep. No more than a minute or two after he had laid down, he heard a scratching sound just outside his tent.

“Alistair?” came Elissa’s whisper.

He moved to open the tent flap. “Elissa! Is something wrong?”

She was blushing slightly in the firelight. “Can I come in?”

He immediately motioned her inside. “Can’t sleep?” he asked.

She shook her head, and he put an arm around her. “You can stay if you want.”

The relief in her eyes was all the thanks he needed. “Come lay down,” he said, and they got into the position they had slept in during their nights on the road. He stroked Elissa’s hair and placed a small kiss on her forehead.

“Thank you,” she whispered, and closed her eyes. She seemed to fall asleep within moments. But Alistair was more awake than ever.

He told himself to relax. This was no different than all of the nights leading up to it. Except it _was_ different. He could feel her body through the thin nightclothes she wore. No armor lay between them anymore. His body was beginning to react to her nearness.

_Darkspawn_, he thought. _Think of darkspawn. _No, now he was only thinking of watching Elissa fight. Maker, she was a beautiful sight. He tried again. _Grand Cleric Elemena! Yelling about my attitude again. Insufferable old bat._ Finally!

He sighed in relief and settled in. He needed to get a good night’s rest. They were fighting darkspawn tomorrow after all.

…


	4. Chapter 4

After putting on his armor in the morning, Alistair exited his tent and looked around. It didn’t take long to spot Elissa and her dog watching some of the soldiers train. Alistair frowned slightly, a little puzzled by the apparent lethargy of the camp. Wasn’t there going to be a battle today? No one seemed to be preparing.

“Hey,” he said, greeting Elissa with a smile as he stepped up beside her. “What’s going on?”

“Word is that the battle’s delayed,” she told him. “The darkspawn have amassed, but don’t seem to be approaching yet The wardens think they intend to attack after dark, when they think we’ll be sleeping.”

“Oh,” Alistair said with a sigh. “I guess it will be a long night.”

Elissa’s eyes sparkled at him. “Are you disappointed?” she asked, showing a little of her former spirit.

He grinned, pulling her close. “To get to spend the day with my favorite person?” he asked. “Never.” He kissed her, and they might have forgotten where they were had they not heard a wolf whistle that was clearly aimed at them.

They were both blushing as they pulled away, but Alistair couldn’t help his sheepish smile.

Elissa cleared her throat, still blushing. “What do you say we do some training this morning?”

They practiced for a while before taking a leisurely afternoon nap in preparation of the evening’s battle. As the sun went down over the camp, the atmosphere shifted. There was a restlessness among the troops and an urgency that hadn’t been there before.

Soon, a runner came to claim the knights who had faithfully guarded them, asking them to rejoin their company. The battle was soon to begin.

Alistair and Elissa headed to the spot they were supposed to meet Kallian, leaving an annoyed Kitty to stay by their tents. They waited and waited, watching the armies gather below.

“Do you think we should go without her?” Alistair finally asked.

Before Elissa replied, Kallian seemed to appear out of nowhere. “What are you all standing around for?” she asked. “Let’s get a move on.” And she began marching across the bridge.

Alistair and Elissa shared a look, shrugging their shoulders and moving to follow her.

Not long after they had crossed the bridge, they heard the bombardment begin. Darkspawn-made catapults flung large stones at the army below and the men on the bridge up above.

“Focus, pretty boy,” Kallian said, snapping her fingers in front of Alistair’s face. “Keep your mind on our mission, not theirs.”

He blushed, but didn’t respond as he turned to follow her to the Tower of Ishal. They marched across the barren winter landscape until they reached the building, tall and imposing.

Kallian looked up at the enormous doors and took a step back. She looked at Alistair. “Well?” she said impatiently. “You’re the biggest.”

With a roll of his eyes, Alistair went to open the large metal door. As he did, two arrows came flying out, embedding in the snow behind them.

“Darkspawn!” Elissa cried, already nocking an arrow in her bow. Kallian slipped inside and Alistair felt obligated to follow, much as he would rather just close the door instead.

Watching Kallian fight was a revelation.

Alistair was certain he’d never seen anyone move so quickly or fight with such ruthless efficiency. She was in one place and then another, leaving bodies in her wake. But that didn’t keep him from teasing her a little bit.

“Say, aren’t grey wardens supposed to be able to sense darkspawn?”

“I’m new at this! _You_ try learning all there is to know about the grey wardens in two days!”

The fight was brutal. In some ways it was harder than fighting through Castle Cousland had been. It would be a long time before Alistair could forget the darkspawn’s twisted faces and evil laughter. And there was always an extra level of care that had to be taken—if someone swallowed darkspawn blood or got it inside a wound, it could kill them.

They fought their way through the first floor of the tower, and when they reached the last room before they could ascend, they found a large hole broken through the stone floor, deep and dark enough that they couldn’t see the bottom.

“Darkspawn must have tunneled up,” Kallian said, wiping her daggers on a hanging banner. “They love tunneling in and taking us by surprise.”

“It must have been within the past day or two,” Elissa replied. “Didn’t Loghain say that his people had checked out the tower a couple of days ago?”

Alistair peered over the edge. “Maker, they must work fast. That’s one big hole.”

“Whatever,” Kallian said, tossing her ponytail. “Let’s get a move on.” She marched up the stairs and pulled on the large metal door.

They made their way through the next level and the next, all full of darkspawn. After what seemed like an eternity, the finally reached the top of the tower and cleared it of darkspawn.

Alistair and Elissa moved to the window, looking down over the battle. “We’ve probably missed the signal already,” Alistair said urgently. “It took so long to fight our way up here. We should light the beacon.”

“Can’t,” Kallian said, her voice flat. “No kindling.”

“What?” Elissa called out, turning from the window. “How can that be?”

“Don’t know,” the elf replied. “But there’s not a stick of wood or scrap of fabric in this room either.”

All three of them were silent a moment, looking around the room, before Elissa spoke up again. “The darkspawn bodies,” she said. “We can drag them over and light them. Bodies are flammable, at least.”

“That’ll work great if all you want is smoke,” Kallian countered.

“Well we have to do something!” she replied angrily.

Kallian rolled her eyes, but began dragging darkspawn over to the hearth. The other two quickly moved to follow.

“I don’t understand this,” Alistair said. He tossed a body on the pile. “The darkspawn couldn’t have known our plan. Why would they empty out the kindling so thoroughly?”

Elissa dropped the darkspawn she was carrying suddenly, turning to meet Alistair’s eyes. “They didn’t. Those darkspawn didn’t tunnel in overnight either.” Her voice was flat. “We’ve been betrayed.”

Even Kallian’s head snapped up at that, but before she could comment, she paused, turning towards the door. “Do you hear that?” she whispered, and the other two fell silent, listening.

There was a low rumble, and sounds of clanging metal.

“More darkspawn,” Alistair said, and readied his shield and sword.

Elissa moved to nock an arrow, but Kallian held up a hand to stop her. “Better try to light the beacon while we have a chance. Pretty boy and I will handle the darkspawn.”

Alistair’s brows shot up—Elissa didn’t usually take well to being ordered around—but she did as requested, running to the darkspawn pile and trying to light it. Alistair returned his attention to the door, waiting for whatever was going to burst through.

After a few more tense moments, the door slammed open, and darkspawn began to pour through. In moments, he and Kallian were surrounded, fighting for their lives. A glance over at Elissa showed him that she had given up on lighting the beacon, forced to use her sword to defend herself.

“They’re still coming,” Kallian said in disbelief. Her blades were flying faster than ever.

Alistair was fighting harder than he ever had before when he heard a cry of pain. “Elissa!” he cried out, turning towards her just in time to see a blade ripped from her side. She crumbled to the floor. “NO!” He barreled through the darkspawn, slamming them out of the way with his shield.

He stood over her crumpled body, unable to help her as he fought with all his might. The bodies were beginning to pile up around them.

“Shit!” he heard Kallian yell. When he glanced her way, she was staring back at him, horror written on her face. He looked down to where her gaze was locked, and three arrows stood out from his chest. Pain began to bloom, and then all went black.

…


	5. Chapter 5

Alistair woke up to a strange face above him, a woman with raven hair. “Who are you?” he asked. He looked around, increasingly bewildered at not recognizing his surroundings. “Where am I?”

“You are in the Korcari Wilds,” the strange woman said. “I am Morrigan. My mother rescued you from the tower of Ishal.”

At that, Alistair sat straight up, forcing her to take a step back. “What happened? Did we light the beacon? Are Elissa and Kallian alright?” He looked at Morrigan frantically.

“Be calm,” Morrigan said, holding up a hand. “Your friends are well enough. We brought all three of you here.”

“And the battle?” he asked, too distracted by his worries to consider _how_ she’d rescued them.

Morrigan hesitated. “Perhaps we should go see my mother. She is outside with one of your friends.”

Alistair stood quickly, gathering his clothing and armor from the wooden chest that Morrigan indicated. He barely spared a glimpse around at the primitive cabin he stood within. Morrigan led him through a door into another room, and he stopped when he saw Kallian lying on a pallet on the floor.

“Leave her be,” Morrigan warned. “I will wake her soon.”

Despite his hesitation, Alistair obeyed, following Morrigan out the door into the sunshine. He immediately noticed Elissa’s silhouette against a sea of tall reeds.

“Elissa,” he said in relief as he approached her.

She turned, immediately burying him in a hug. “I’m so glad you’re alright,” she murmured into his shoulder.

When she pulled back, Alistair frowned to see that she’d recently been crying. “Liss… what happened?”

Elissa glanced at an older woman who was standing nearby, but the woman remained silent. “We didn’t get the beacon lit,” she said quietly. “Loghain’s men never came in to flank the darkspawn. He sounded the retreat instead. The wardens were overtaken.” She paused, blinking back tears. “Alistair… your brother…”

Time seemed to slow, the world falling away from him. Grief crushed his throat, made him unable to speak a word. He knew what she meant to say. He was alone in the world again.

When he came back to himself, he saw Elissa standing before him, wiping his tears away with trembling fingers. “I’m sorry,” she whispered. _Not alone,_ he thought._ Not completely._

Alistair pulled her tight to him, allowing hot tears to soak her golden hair. He’d been given so much in these last few months, only to have all of it ripped away. All of it but her.

“Not to interrupt the pity party, but what in the Maker’s name is going on?” came Kallian’s voice from behind him.

While Alistair was relieved to see her well, he was not ready to face her at the moment. Elissa stepped in front of him protectively. “We lost the battle. Loghain pulled his men out,” she said simply. “Alistair’s brother was killed.” She gave Kallian a warning look. She wouldn’t name his brother here, not in front of these strangers.

“You needn’t speak in riddles before me,” the old woman suddenly said. She let out a laugh that was more like a cackle. “I already know who the young prince is. Why do the three of you think you were saved?”

“Oh Maker,” Alistair said, as the implications of his brother’s death finally hit him.

Elissa gave him a worried look, but quickly turned to face the old woman. “What do you want with him, Flemeth?” she demanded, getting between her and Alistair as if to guard him. He barely had a moment to consider the implications of the name.

“I want the darkspawn out of my forest,” the old woman said sharply. “I want what we all want. I want peace. Do you think my existence is less threatened by them than yours?”

“Well, those darkspawn are going to be a problem,” Kallian commented, casually spinning her knife. “How many wardens survived the battle?”

“Just one,” Flemeth said. The dagger stopped.

“Me?” Kallian said incredulously. “You’ve got the wrong girl. You should’ve saved Duncan.”

“I think I’ve got just the right person,” Flemeth replied, a knowing look in her eye. “And with two such… motivated helpers, how can you fail?”

“What exactly do you expect me to do?” the elf asked, her voice dripping with sarcasm.

“You still have the grey warden treaties, do you not?”

“What treaties?” Elissa interjected.

“They obligate certain groups to help the grey wardens fight off a blight. The circle of magi, the Dalish elves, and Orzammar are included,” Kallian explained grudgingly. “Duncan left them with me since I wasn’t supposed to be fighting.”

“There are other armies that weren’t in the battle,” Elissa mused. “Arl Eamon’s men weren’t at Ostagar. And whatever men were under Loghain, but…”

“He might be a traitor,” Kallian finished for her. “When the beacon didn’t light, he would have known something was wrong up there. He should have sent his men out once he realized. Instead, he left the king and grey wardens to die.”

“We already had our suspicions about him, considering it was his men who were supposed to prepare the tower for us,” Elissa agreed.

“I have been out scouting for information while the three of you slept,” Morrigan said, speaking up for the first time. “It seems this Loghain is now calling himself the regent, ruling in his daughter’s place.”

“A power grab?” Elissa said, astonished. “He never seemed interested in running his own teyrnir, much less the nation. I don’t understand why he would do such a thing.”

Flemeth shook her head. “Men’s hearts hold shadows darker than any tainted creature.”

Elissa took another look at Alistair, who remained silent and unmoving. “He won’t be safe in the capitol,” she whispered, almost to herself.

“No,” Flemeth agreed. “The safest place for him will be on the move.”

Elissa turned a steady gaze on Flemeth. “And what about me? Why save me?”

The old woman laughed. “And deny the young king his noble bride? Besides, I think he’s lost enough, don’t you?”

“I do,” she said, staring at Flemeth hard. “And I’m not going to let anyone else use him or hurt him.”

“Then I chose his protector well,” Flemeth said steadily, meeting Elissa’s gaze.

A light cough from behind caught both their attention. “If we’re going to do this thing, we better get a move on.” Kallian pointed at the sun with her dagger. “We’re losing daylight.”

Elissa’s eyebrows shot up. “You’re going to have to lead us, you know. You’re the grey warden. We’re just here to help.”

Kallian shrugged, deceptively casual. “I’ve got nothing better to do.” She inclined her head towards Alistair. “Is pretty boy going to be alright?”

Elissa bit her lip. “He will… it’s just the shock.” She led him away from the others and cupped his face in her hands. “Alistair,” she said softly. “It will be okay. I’ll be with you every step of the way.”

“Oh, Liss,” he finally said. “I’m not ready. I never wanted to be king. I can’t do this,” he said, and vigorously shook his head.

Elissa stopped him with her hands, forcing him to look her in the eye. “Yes, you can. I know you can do this. I’ve known from the beginning that you would make a wonderful king if it came to this.” She released his face, rubbing her hands down his arms. “We’ll go to Arl Eamon. He wasn’t at Ostagar. He was very fond of Cailan, and never a friend to Loghain.”

Alistair sighed. “He raised me before I went to the chantry.”

“He’ll be able to help us,” Elissa reassured him. “Everything is going to be okay.”

“If you say so,” he said, unsure.

“I do,” she told him. “I promise.” And she pulled him along, back to the assembled group.

“Great news,” Kallian said as they approached, her voice dripping with sarcasm. “Morrigan is coming with us.”

“Is she?” Elissa asked cautiously, sharing a confused look with Alistair.

“She’s going to _help_ us,” the young elf replied, and rolled her eyes.

Elissa took a look at Morrigan’s darkening expression and quickly jumped in. “Well I know we will never get out of this forest without her aid.” She turned to the young witch. “Your help is appreciated, Morrigan.”

Though Kallian scoffed, Morrigan inclined her head stiffly. “Thank you. Shall we leave now?”

As they began to move away, Flemeth called out, “What, no goodbye for your mother?”

Morrigan huffed and turned to the old woman. “Thank you, Mother,” she said, gritting her teeth, “For forcing me out.”

Flemeth laughed. “You must grow your wings sometime, my girl. Goodbye!”

Morrigan led them out of the forest to a town called Lothering, which Alistair and Elissa recognized as the last town they’d skirted before reaching Ostagar on their trek south. It was different now. Many of the residents were gone, fleeing the blight, and the ones that remained were fearful. It was full of desperation and anger now, and the fields were strewn with soldiers and refugees.

“The blight’s not even here yet and it’s destroyed this place,” Elissa said softly as they passed through. “We should do what we can to help them.”

“We’re here to get news and supplies, not to take on charity cases,” Kallian protested.

Elissa rounded on her. “Would it kill you to care about these people?”

She shrugged. “Well, do you think any one of them cares one fig about me?”

Elissa glared. “We may be along to aid you, but that doesn’t mean I’m going to let the people of Ferelden hurt when I can help them.”

“Elissa’s right,” Alistair spoke, surprising everyone. He’d been all but silent during their journey. “These are…” He swallowed. “These are my subjects. I have to care for them if I can.”

“Fine,” Kallian snapped. “But don’t go spending any of my coin on these people. Or wasting any of my time.”

Elissa rolled her eyes. “We’ll make sure not to waste any of your time, oh great grey warden.”

They made their way through town, making purchases and doing tasks from the chanter’s board for a little additional coin. Alistair and Elissa took every opportunity to aid people when they could, with both Kallian and Morrigan rolling their eyes in the background. Everything seemed to go smoothly enough, however, until they stopped at the inn for the evening.

As soon as they passed through the door, Elissa’s eyes lit upon several men wearing Loghain’s sigil. Unfortunately, they seemed equally interested in the group that had just entered. Led by a man with a scraggly beard, the soldiers swaggered over. “Well, look what we have here, men! I think we’ve just been blessed,” he said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

“Loghain’s men,” Alistair whispered to Kallian.

“Didn’t we spend all afternoon asking after some people of this very description?” another asked. “And everyone said they hadn’t seen them?”

“It seems we were lied to,” the first man said menacingly. His hand reached towards his sword.

“Gentlemen,” came a cultured voice from off to the side. Elissa chanced a glance at the newcomer, a red-haired woman in chantry robes. “Surely there is no need for trouble. These are no doubt simply more souls seeking refuge.”

“They’re more than that,” the man growled. “Now stay out of our way, Sister. If you protect these traitors, you’ll get the same as them!”

Elissa felt a shock at the word traitor. Had things gone so far? But she could see how it had come to this. It would be so easy for Loghain to make it seem as if she and Alistair were the ones attempting a coup and he the one protecting the throne. So easy to blame the grey wardens for Cailan’s death.

Kallian, who hadn’t spared a glance for the sister, was staring Loghain’s soldier down. “If this asshole wants a fight, I’ll be happy to oblige,” she mocked him, and Elissa closed her eyes in frustration.

“Take the warden into custody,” the soldier said to his underling. “And kill her companions.” He drew his sword and attacked.

Kallian was ready for him, and the others were only a moment behind. Elissa kept to non-lethal shots, hoping the others would do the same. It would be best not to add murder to their list of supposed crimes.

It didn’t take long before the lead soldier begged for surrender.

“Good,” said the sister, inserting herself into the situation once more. “They’ve learned their lesson and we can all stop fighting now.”

Kallian held her blade to the soldier’s throat, looking edgy. “I don’t want them reporting back to Loghain,” she said, giving the man her fiercest glare.

“No!” the sister cried, before Kallian could make a move. “Don’t kill him!”

“She’s right,” Elissa said, adding her voice to the sister’s. “We shouldn’t add a real crime to Loghain’s list of our imagined ones. Don’t kill a surrendered man, Kallian.”

The elf turned her glare on Elissa before lowering her knife with a huff. “Fine. But if he’s going to report to Loghain, I have a message for him.” She put her knife back on the soldier’s throat. “Tell him we know the truth about Ostagar. And we’re coming for him.”

“Yes,” he said, nodding frantically once Kallian pulled her dagger away. “I’ll tell him. I promise!” He and his fellows practically ran from the inn.

Kallian turned towards the sister once the men had left. “Now, who in the void are you? And do you always jump into other people’s business like that?”

Out of the corner of her eye, Elissa saw Alistair wince. Kallian did have a rather… abrasive personality.

The sister looked a bit shocked, but managed to answer. “I apologize for my interference, but I couldn’t just sit by and not help. I am Leliana, one of the lay sisters of the chantry. Or I was.”

“I am Elissa, Sister Leliana,” she said quickly, before Kallian could make more of a muddle of things. “This is Alistair, Morrigan, and Kallian,” she added, motioning to each of them.

“Right,” Kallian said. “Thanks and all, but we need to grab rooms so we better get going—”

“Wait,” Leliana said, almost desperately. “I’m coming with you.”

Kallian looked at the sister as if she had two heads. “Excuse me?”

“The Maker told me that I should help you,” she insisted. Elissa could hear Morrigan scoff behind her.

“Look,” Kallian said, “We’re all full up on crazy here. So thanks, but no thanks.”

“I know who you are,” Leliana said, plowing on. “Not just you, Warden.” That was when Elissa stopped in her tracks.

Elissa peered at the sister. “You’re very well-informed,” she said cautiously. “If you’re not lying.”

Leliana turned her penetrating gaze on Elissa before motioning towards Morrigan and then Alistair. “The witch, the prince, the noble bride. And I know you need all the help you can get. What you are doing—what you are meant to do—is the Maker’s work.”

Elissa’s mind was working furiously. She barely noted the shocked looks on her companions’ faces. She had never felt confident about the Maker’s existence—if he existed, he’d never taken an active interest in her life. But this woman knew too much. They couldn’t just leave her. With her knowledge, there was no knowing what damage she could do.

“We should bring her, Kallian,” she said softly. “Crazy or not, she knows too much. And she’s not wrong about us needing help.”

Kallian rolled her eyes. “Whatever.” She moved towards the innkeeper, but paused, turning back to Leliana. “So, sister,” she began again, “If you’re here to help us, do you think you can help me free that caged qunari?”

Leliana looked shocked. “I… perhaps, but why?”

Kallian shot her a shark-like grin. “I want him.”

…


	6. Chapter 6

“Thank goodness I’m leaving,” Leliana muttered, glancing at the qunari walking beside Kallian. “I don’t think the revered mother is feeling very kindly towards me anymore.”

Elissa huffed a small laugh. “Kallian has been obsessed with acquiring him ever since we first saw him, despite what anyone else said. I hope he doesn’t take offense to Kallian calling him her personal battering ram.”

“They both seem to share a certain… blunt quality to their personalities. Perhaps they will bond,” Leliana said.

“Blunt is a kind way of putting it,” Elissa replied, and the two women shared a smile. Elissa was pleased that the redheaded sister didn’t seem nearly as crazy as she had first appeared. In fact, she thought Leliana might shape up to be an interesting friend. She was certainly less difficult to talk to than Morrigan or Kallian.

Elissa glanced behind them. “I had better go rescue Alistair from Morrigan. She doesn’t seem to appreciate his need to grieve our losses, and they’ve been sniping at each other ever since.”

Leliana smiled as she watched Elissa walk away. Elissa was just the kind of girl she liked—fierce but kind. She let out a sigh. Too bad it was obvious she only had eyes for their future king. To her disappointment, theirs was not solely a political betrothal. At least, Leliana consoled herself, she could call Elissa a new friend.

…

They continued on the road towards Redcliffe, camping nights with a traveling salesman and his strange son. They made steady progress—if occasionally interrupted by darkspawn—until Kallian paused at a crossroads.

“Redcliffe is that way,” Elissa said, pointing. “We should get a move on.”

“Right,” Kallian said. “Or we could head to the circle tower and get that mage army the treaty promised me.”

Elissa stopped in her tracks. “We had agreed to go to Arl Eamon.”

Kallian crossed her arms. “You’re the one who needs him. How does going to see Arl Eamon benefit me? Politics is your game, not mine.”

Elissa narrowed her eyes. “I’m sorry to be the one to break this to you, Kallian, but the moment Loghain declared the wardens traitors to the crown, politics became your game too. If you think your warden army is going to amass anywhere in Ferelden without political support, you’re in for a nasty surprise. And Redcliffe has an army too, one that wasn’t at Ostagar.”

Kallian threw up her arms. “Fine! But when we get there you better do your politicking and get me that army. I’m only in this to end the blight.” She turned, trudging down the road. “All I ever wanted was to survive,” she muttered. “I never asked for any of this.”

_None of us did, _thought Elissa.

…

Leliana approached Kallian quietly as they were setting up camp. “What is it, sister?” Kallian said, crossing her arms.

Leliana’s eyes glittered with mirth as she inclined her head towards Alistair and Elissa, who were setting up a single tent. “Have those two always shared a tent?”

Kallian shrugged. “I guess. Who cares?” She walked away, giving Leliana an odd glance.

Leliana giggled. Maybe Kallian didn’t care, but how could she not? It was just so cute!

…

“There’s Redcliffe,” Elissa said, as they caught their first sight of the castle. “I hope Arl Eamon will help us.” She turned to Alistair. “I never knew him very well. You mentioned before that he raised you?”

“I was raised in his household, anyhow. Though he was the closest thing to a father I had, I can’t say I’m especially fond of him,” Alistair admitted. “Not after the way he allowed his wife to treat me. I slept in the stables more often than not to stay out of Isolde’s way.”

“Did he know?”

Alistair shrugged, visibly uncomfortable. He didn’t meet her eyes. “I don’t know how he couldn’t. But it was easier for him to ignore it and let her have her way. She thought I was his bastard and hated me for it.”

“And now?” she asked.

His hands twisted in front of him. “I suspect she’ll fawn over me and pretend nothing ever happened.”

Elissa watched him, a sad look in her eyes. “I’ll treat her with courtesy,” she said, “but I won’t ever forget. A child’s parentage is never their fault.” And she continued down the road.

…

The group was nearing Redcliffe when a young redheaded man approached them in a hurry. “Thank the Maker!” he cried. “Are you here to help us?”

“Excuse me?” Kallian said, staring at the boy like he had two heads.

He gaped at them in horror. “Then you haven’t heard?”

“We’ve heard that Arl Eamon is ill, if that’s what you mean,” Alistair said cautiously.

The boy scoffed. “He could be dead for all we know! No one can get into the castle. The village is under attack! Every night these… creatures come down from the castle. We’re only safe during the daytime.” He shuddered.

“What’s your name?” Elissa asked kindly.

“Tomas, ser,” he said, taking her for a knight in her fine armor.

“Tomas, who is in charge of the village if the arl is unreachable?”

“His brother, Bann Teagan, is in the chantry, organizing our defenses. Shall I take you to him?”

Elissa glanced at Kallian, who shrugged, and Alistair, who nodded. “Please do.”

As they followed the boy down into the village, Kallian yanked Elissa back. “We don’t have time to stay here and babysit this village,” the warden hissed in her ear. “The darkspawn are moving, and we need to do the same!”

“What you need is a political backer for the wardens,” Elissa whispered back. “At the very least, we should find out what has happened here. If the arl is dead, then perhaps there is no reason to stay. But if Bann Teagan believes that he lives, we still need his help.”

Kallian rolled her eyes and ripped her hand away, marching off until she was right behind Tomas. Elissa sighed. Couldn’t Flemeth have saved a more even-tempered warden?

She looked around the village and could see the preparations for battle, pitiful as they were. These were civilians, not an army. Where were Arl Eamon’s knights?

They entered the chantry and approached a gentleman with auburn hair, who turned at their approach. He opened his mouth to say something, then his eyes widened at the sight of Alistair.

“Alistair?” he said in astonishment. “Maker, I thought you were killed at Ostagar. Thank goodness you’re alive.”

“No thanks to Loghain,” Elissa said under her breath.

Teagan blinked as he looked at her. “Elissa Cousland? Is that you?”

She smiled briefly. “Indeed, my lord. At your service.”

He shook his head. “Cailan’s letter said you were both at Ostagar, unforeseen circumstances. And since that was the last we heard…”

“You assumed the worst,” Elissa finished for him. “Understandable. Perhaps it is best we continue the illusion.”

“You believe your lives are in danger?” Teagan asked in surprise.

Elissa and Alistair shared a look. “We do,” she said.

Teagan thanked Tomas and sent him on his way before leading the group to a small side room. They told him a shortened version of the events from Highever on, and he briefed them on the situation within the village. Those inhabitants with martial training were fighting to defend it, alongside the few knights who remained. Most of the knights were gone, at Arlessa Isolde’s request, to search for a cure for Eamon’s mysterious illness.

“I believe I have a way into the castle to check on the inhabitants, but I don’t believe it is safe to try at night, or without an armed retinue,” Teagan said with a grimace. “It will be dusk in a few short hours. If you remain to help us defend the village tonight, I will show you my way into the castle in the morning. Then, we can learn if Eamon still lives. He certainly has the political power to aid the wardens,” he said, nodding at Kallian, “and to support your right to the throne,” he said to Alistair, who grimaced.

“We won’t abandon Redcliffe,” Alistair pledged. “After all, if I am to be king, these are my people.”

Teagan graced him with a smile. “Thank you, Alistair. You are a good man.”

Once they left the chantry, Kallian glared at Elissa. “If we all die here tonight, I’m blaming you!”

Elissa gave her a forced smile in return. “And when your armies are allowed to amass in Ferelden, I have no doubt you’ll credit that to me as well.”

With a shake of her head, the warden stormed off in a huff.

Morrigan came up beside Elissa. “Let her sulk. There are better ways to use our time.”

“Indeed,” Leliana said, cutting in. “I believe there are some things we can do to help the village before the battle tonight. Let us speak with the militia captain, shall we?”

…

When dark had fallen, they were gathered, waiting at the base of the path to the castle. They heard a host of strange screeches and clanging noises, and then an eerie mist rolled out of the castle gates.

The gate rose, and terrifying creatures began pouring out. Skeletons ran forward, carrying swords and shields like living men.

Kallian let out a growl of unbridled anger, daggers tight in her fists. “I’m blaming you for this,” she said aside to Elissa, her eyes trained on the undead ahead of them.

Elissa, feeling the stirrings of fear, said, “Fair enough.”

They stared down the path and waited for their nightmares to approach.

…


	7. Chapter 7

“For Redcliffe!” cried the knights, as the undead rushed towards them, meeting the army head on.

The knights’ leader, Ser Perth, nodded at Leliana, who shot a flaming arrow to ignite some strategically placed lamp oil. The shrieks of the burning skeletons rang in everyone’s ears.

Alistair’s eyes were wide in fear as he fought, crushing bones with his shield and severing them with his sword. Burning skeletons began to emerge from the inferno of flaming oil on the path. Kallian, fighting next to him, was enraged.

“Whose idea was it to turn skeletons into skeletons on _fire_?”

“That was Leliana,” Morrigan called to her, seeming pleased to give the redhead the blame.

“I like it,” rumbled Sten, who spoke rarely. “This is… fun.” He swung his sword in an arc, slicing half a dozen blazing skeletons in half.

They whittled down the first wave until fewer and fewer were coming through. Then they heard screams from below. A knight ran to look down upon the village. “They’re coming up from the lake!” he yelled.

Ser Perth looked at Kallian. “Go, protect the chantry! My men will hold the line here.”

“To the village!” Kallian cried, and ran down the hill, leaving the rest to follow.

They defended the chantry doors until near daybreak. By the time the sky began to lighten, the skeletons were destroyed, bones smashed and broken. Strangest of all, their remains disappeared at the sun’s first light.

“Magic,” Sten scoffed. “It should be controlled.” He shot a look of mistrust towards Morrigan, who steadfastly ignored him.

When the wounded had been tended to and the immediate needs dealt with, Teagan led them to the windmill, explaining the secret passage that lay within. As he did so, they saw someone approaching on the road from the castle—Arlessa Isolde and two guards. “Teagan!” the woman cried, throwing herself on him in an embrace. Leliana giggled.

Stepping back, the Arlessa began to speak. “There is something wrong with Connor!”

She wove a tale of a rogue mage, her fearful son, and a demon in control of the castle. “It isn’t his fault,” she said of Connor, nearly begging. “He didn’t know.”

Morrigan looked upon her sharply. “With decent instruction he would have,” she said, while Sten glared at them both in disapproval.

“Look, can we get a move on?” Kallian cut in, bored.

“Kallian is right,” Leliana added quickly, before the elf could say more. “There’s not point in laying blame now. We need to act, to assess the situation.”

“You must come back with me,” Isolde pleaded with Teagan. “Only you. Who knows what he will do if you do not!”

Bann Teagan patted her arm comfortingly. “Peace, Isolde. I will return with you. Give me a moment to speak with my companions first.”

He pulled the warden and her party away to speak outside of Isolde’s hearing. “I will go with Isolde alone,” he began, holding up a hand to forestall any complaints. Alistair opened his mouth and closed it, waiting for Teagan to continue. “Once we’re inside the gates, use this,” he said, presenting his ring. “Use it to enter a secret passage below the windmill. We will meet up inside and figure out our next step once we have seen the state of things.”

Kallian took the ring and nodded.

“We won’t fail you, Teagan,” Alistair insisted.

Teagan smiled and put a hand on the younger man’s shoulder. “I know you won’t. You’ve grown into a finer man than I could have imagined that day we first met, with you covered in mud.” His eyes sparkled with laughter for a moment before he became serious once again. “I will see all of you inside. Maker preserve us.”

The group watched as he walked with Isolde up to the gates of the castle which closed behind him.

“Alright,” Kallian said. “Let’s go.”

They entered the windmill and dropped down into the dank passage that Teagan’s ring had unlocked. As Alistair pulled out a torch to light, Morrigan lit her staff with a snap of her fingers, rolling her eyes at the surprised man next to her.

They moved quickly and quietly, but for a long way it seemed that nothing was ahead, until they reached a dead end with a ladder and trap door above them. “That must go up into the dungeons,” Kallian stated. “Move quietly. We don’t know what might be up there.”

They couldn’t have imagined the things they ended up finding as they continued. Spirits, wraiths, and odd constructs faced them as they traversed through the dungeons. “The veil has been pulled very thin here,” Morrigan said in her superior way. “Someone has been exceptionally foolish.”

It wasn’t long before they found that someone. Connor’s magical tutor, the apostate Jowan, was locked up in the dungeons. He freely confessed to poisoning Eamon at Loghain’s behest. “What was I to do?” he said. “I would have been sent back to the circle to be killed or made tranquil!” But he denied being the reason behind Connor’s possession. “I had nothing to do with that! I’ve spent all this time regretting what I’ve done to the arl. I wouldn’t want to make things worse!”

Morrigan was scathing in her response. “If you were any kind of tutor, you would have taught him not to deal with a demon unprepared! This is your fault, whether or not you believe it to be so.” She stormed off while the others continued to question him. After some discussion, they left Jowan in his cell. He was complicit, after all, and if they could use this as evidence against Loghain, all the better.

Eventually they were able to make their way up into the kitchens and out into the courtyard, where more spirits awaited them. In the courtyard they faced down a revenant, drawing them towards him with his arcane power. When they finished the battle, they were exhausted, but knew there was further still to go.

They entered the great hall, not knowing what to expect. To their horror, Teagan seemed to now have become a puppet of the spirit that Connor had called to him. Connor, eyes blazing with fury, called the castle guards to attack, and Teagan along with them.

“Don’t kill them!” Leliana cried out, concerned as always about preserving life where they could. With difficulty, they were able to knock out or bind all of the guards with only minor wounds. By then, Connor was gone, upstairs and out of sight.

When Teagan woke, he thanked them. “My mind is my own again,” he said. “But something must be done.”

“We must kill it,” Sten rumbled.

“No!” cried Isolde.

“Please tell me we are not considering killing an innocent child!” Leliana pleaded.

“What else are we going to do?” Kallian replied. “Everyone knows there’s only one solution for possession.” She fingered her dagger.

Teagan held up his hands. “Please be calm. Perhaps the apostate will have some idea? He brought this upon us after all.”

Morrigan snorted and Kallian rolled her eyes, but Jowan was brought up from the dungeons nonetheless.

“There is one thing,” he said hesitantly. He could hardly meet anyone’s eyes. “I know a ritual that can free Connor from the demon’s hold, but it requires blood magic.”

“I have never heard of this ritual,” Morrigan snapped at him. “Such a thing must require a great deal of blood.”

“It does,” Jowan said slowly. “It requires all of it.”

Isolde broke their shocked silence. “Then let it be my blood,” she said. “He is my son. I would gladly die in his place.”

“We aren’t really considering blood magic, surely,” Alistair protested, his templar training coming through.

Kallian shrugged. “If she’s willing, then why not?”

“But there must be some other way!” he argued.

Elissa turned to Jowan. “Is there any other source the power can be drawn from for this ritual? Is it possible to complete it without blood?”

He scratched his head. “Well… you’d need a lot of lyrium. And at least seven mages.”

Alistair looked up, his eyes lit with relief. “We’re less than a full day’s travel from the circle tower. Surely we could convince them to help! We could be back the day after tomorrow.”

“You want to waste two days?” Kallian exclaimed. “We can be done with this now!”

“But you need to go to the tower anyway, don’t you, Kallian?” Leliana said in her musical voice. “We could get the army promised in your treaty. And think how grateful Eamon would be if we saved both his wife and his son. He would have to advocate for the grey wardens after that.”

Kallian growled in irritation. “Be ready to leave in half an hour.”

“Warden,” Teagan called as she was walking away. “Would you consider leaving some of your companions here? The town will be left vulnerable in the time that you’re gone.”

“I wish to stay,” Sten said immediately. He scowled. “Too many mages.”

“I, too, would stay,” said Morrigan, ignoring the look of mistrust that Sten sent her way. “I have spent my life outside a tower. I have no intention of entering one now.”

“Alright,” Kallian agreed, nodding at each of them. “You two do your best to protect the town. We should be back before dark the day after tomorrow. Don’t get yourselves killed in the meantime.”

After a short rest and gathering needed supplies, Kallian was back out on the road with Alistair, Leliana, and Elissa, her least favorite companions. The only one she didn’t mind was Elissa’s dog. Kitty never chattered at her or judged her decisions. Not like the others.

They were a couple hours walk from the docks to cross the lake when they were forced to stop to sleep. Leliana grinned as she watched Alistair and Elissa erect their one tent, the dog settling in front of it as if he was on guard.

Inside the tent, Elissa had a faraway look in her eye as they lay down together. “Sometimes,” she said, “none of this feels real. Like a strange dream I’m going to wake from back in Highever.”

“I wish you could, Liss,” Alistair said feelingly.

She covered his hand with hers and gave him a sad smile. “None of us can go backward. We can only try to move ahead.” She paused, meeting his eyes with her serious ones. “When this is over, our future together… it’s worth fighting for, isn’t it?”

“It will be,” Alistair said firmly. “I promise it will.”

They lay together, taking comfort from one another, until they fell into a restless sleep.

…


	8. Chapter 8

When they reached the Circle of Magi, nothing was as it should be. The mages found a darkspawn invasion to be the perfect time for a rebellion, and when the demons started appearing, the templars had locked them in.

“I’m just waiting for the Right of Annulment to arrive from Denerim,” Knight Commander Greagoir had said.

“That’s not going to happen,” Kallian said, the tiny elven girl standing toe to toe with him. She held up the treaty. “This entitles me to a mage army, and I _will_ have them.” Her dark eyes blazed.

“Look,” Greagoir said, exasperated. “We’re not even sure how many mages are left.”

After further argument, they came to an agreement. Kallian and her companions were permitted to go in, but they had to do one of two things—kill all the mages inside, or bring back First Enchanter Irving to verify that the tower was safe. “If you do annul the circle,” said Greagoir, “You shall have a templar army instead. We will no longer be needed here.”

But Kallian was no fool. She’d been at Ostagar and knew that the templars would never send the mages alone. To get the most soldiers for her trouble, she needed the mages.

And she was damn well going to have them.

After a quick weapon check and discussion with the quartermaster, they were permitted inside, the large doors shutting ominously behind them. Leliana visibly winced at the sound of the bar being replaced on the other side of the door.

“Well, we’d best get to it,” Alistair said nervously. “Those doors won’t open again until we have the first enchanter with us.”

“And we need at least seven mages if we’re going to save Connor,” Elissa reminded them.

“Oh, we’ll have more than that if I have anything to say about it,” Kallian muttered, absently stroking her dagger. As far as she was concerned, the more people in her army, the better chance she had of surviving the war.

They had not made it far before they came across two mages, one grey-haired and one redheaded, with a large group of children.

“If you’re here for the Right of Annulment, I will kill you where you stand,” the older of the two mages stated, pointing her staff at them.

“You can try, old woman,” said Kallian, her hackles up.

“Stop!” cried Leliana, before things could get too heated. “We’re not here to annul the circle. We’re here to defeat the demons,” she explained.

“We want to save as many mages as possible,” Alistair added. “We don’t want to kill anyone.”

The mage lowered her staff slowly, peering at the group with suspicion. Her eyes widened suddenly. “I remember you from Ostagar,” she said to Kallian. “You were the new Grey Warden.”

“And you were the old woman who thought I looked ripe for a lecture,” Kallian snapped back. “Wynne, right? I’m still not interested, by the way.”

Wynne shook her head. “I can see that,” she said in disappointment. She looked at the rest of the group, pausing at Alistair. “Were you at Ostagar as well?” she asked. “Your face looks familiar.”

“I daresay it does,” Elissa muttered in amusement, and Alistair shot her a glare. He didn’t need anyone pointing out the resemblance to his brother.

“Yes, I was at Ostagar,” he said. “Maybe you saw me there.”

Before long it was decided that Wynne would continue with Kallian’s group since she was most familiar with the tower, while Leliana would take Wynne’s place with the children to defend them if anything came this way.

“You can stay too,” Elissa said to Kitty. “I can tell how uncomfortable you are in here.” The dog licked her hand in response.

“Alright, let’s go,” Kallian said, glancing at Wynne in disgruntlement. She understood the benefits of bringing the mage along, but that didn’t mean she liked it.

They fought their way through the tower, finding very few living mages or templars along the way. Some were hostile, some fearful. Some were enthralled by the demons.

“Uldred, the leader of this rebellion, was taking anyone he could to the top of the tower,” Wynne explained. “As far as I can tell, they were going to be used in some sort of ritual.”

“Then we had better get there as quickly as possible,” Elissa said worriedly.

Kallian rolled her eyes. “Thanks for stating the obvious.”

They continued through the tower, fighting all kinds of spirits and demons unleashed by Uldred and his followers. When they were nearing the top of the tower, they met with a demon they hadn’t seen before.

It was tall and languid, turning away from a corpse on the floor as they entered. Its body was bubbling and grotesque, as if its skin had burned away.

“Oh, look. Visitors. I’d entertain you, but… too much effort involved.”

Alistair blinked, feeling something strange stealing over him.

Kallian, seemingly unaffected, snapped back. “Killing demons is enough entertainment for me, thanks.”

“But why?” the demon asked in a smooth voice. “Aren’t you tired of all the violence in this world? I know I am.” He swept an arm wide. The feeling became stronger. “Wouldn’t you like to just lay down and forget about all this? Leave it all behind?”

Alistair couldn’t pull his eyes away from the creature. The idea of lifting his sword and shield seemed impossible. His limbs were getting heavier. As were his eyelids…

“Resist,” Wynne said from beside him, sounding exhausted. “You must… resist. Or all is lost.”

Out of the corner of his eye, Alistair could see Elissa’s head drooping. Kallian’s arms hung loosely by her sides, as if she could no longer raise her daggers.

“Why do you fight?” the demon continued, his voice feeling like a lullaby. “You deserve more… You deserve a rest. The world will go on without you…”

And Alistair felt the world slip away. He didn’t remember hitting the ground.

…

“Wake up, cousin,” came a familiar voice. “Why are you still in bed? It’s your big day!”

Kallian opened her eyes, blinking up at her cousin, who stood over her with her arms folded.

“Ugh,” Kallian said, stomach roiling as she sat up. She couldn’t remember going to sleep the night before.

Shianni grinned down at her. “I told you to pace yourself last night, but you just had to out-drink Soris!”

“Did I?” Kallian asked drowsily.

Shianni tugged her out of bed. “Come on, your wedding waits for no one, even you. Maybe this will teach you not to drink so much.”

Still feeling a bit bewildered, Kallian let Shianni help her up and into the dress hanging on the wall. It was the nicest thing she had ever worn.

“Nelaros, is here early,” Shianni told Kallian as she laced her in. “Looks like you’ll actually get a chance to talk to your groom before the wedding. Lucky girl.”

Kallian snorted, feeling a bit more like herself now. “If you think I’m so lucky, why don’t _you_ marry him?”

“Oh, everyone knows I’m too much trouble to marry off.” Shianni grinned as she led Kallian to sit down at a table with a small mirror.

“He’s handsome,” her cousin teased as she pulled a brush through Kallian’s hair. Kallian rolled her eyes and refused to dignify that with a response.

Shianni deftly tied and braided Kallian’s hair into something pretty and unrecognizable as Kallian considered her feelings about this wedding. Everyone in the alienage was excited—a double wedding was a huge event, probably the biggest of the year. She and her cousin Soris would both be married today. But, despite being told over and over that it was tradition, she was nervous about meeting her new husband for the first time and leaving her home to live far away. Would have to hide her skills in combat? Or would he be kind and understanding, like her father?

“There,” Shianni said. “All finished. Nelaros is going to love you.” The redhead grinned. “Soris is waiting outside, said you two should go over to meet them together. Ready?”

Kallian stood, taking a deep breath as she smoothed down her dress. “Ready.”

Kallian was comforted to see that Soris was just as nervous as she was, but time would wait for no one. With lead weights in their stomachs, they headed over to meet their betrotheds. At least they had a chance to meet before the ceremony.

Shianni hadn’t lied. Nelaros was handsome… and kind. He admitted being nervous, called her pretty, and even made an attempt to comfort her about leaving her home. As far as husbands go, her father certainly could have chosen worse. She spent the rest of the morning getting well-wishes from her neighbors, many of whom she might never see again. And soon she stood before a chantry priest for the ceremony.

But she had this feeling, a growing sense of disquiet. She couldn’t explain it. It wasn’t her nerves about the marriage. There was something else. Something was wrong. She looked at Nelaros. There was nothing wrong with him—he was a good person who seemed to care for her as much as one could after just having met. She looked at the priest, performing the ceremony she’d seen dozens of times before. She looked out over the crowd, saw her neighbors and friends, her father looking proud. It was all she could have imagined her wedding to be. But… something wasn’t right!

A memory was niggling at her. Somehow she knew she wasn’t supposed to be married. She dug deeper into her mind. How could she know that? What did it mean? Why did she feel that this wasn’t her destiny?

The priest cleared her throat, looking at Kallian pointedly. “Do you take this man to be your lawfully wedded husband?”

Kallian opened her mouth, then paused. “This isn’t right,” she blurted out. “I’m not supposed to be here.” She couldn’t explain it… but she _knew_ it to be true. Knew it down to her bones.

“Of course you are,” the priest said. “It’s just wedding nerves.”

“No,” said Kallian. “It’s more than that.”

The priest’s face twisted and turned ugly. “I tried to give you happiness,” she said, “But you’d rather have misery and death. So be it!” And she pulled out two daggers concealed in her skirt.

Kallian’s eyes widened, and she barely managed to dodge the priest’s attack as the memories flooded back. There never was a wedding, she realized. Vaughan Kendells had seen to that. She was in the fade.

With a quick grab and a twist, she had one of the priest’s daggers. She slashed the priest’s wrist and stabbed her in the side. As Kallian reached for the second dagger, she sensed something behind her.

She ducked and turned to see Shianni swinging the jug she had once used to bash in Vaughan’s head. But now Shianni was trying to bash in _hers_. It wasn’t real, Kallian knew it wasn’t but…

“Shianni, please!” She ducked the jug again. “Don’t make me do this!”

When the spectre in her cousin’s form swung again, Kallian spun behind her and slit her throat.

As Shianni gurgled and fell to the floor, Kallian looked around wildly for any further attackers. But the crowd was gone. Only Shianni and the priest remained. Kallian refused to look at their bodies.

She bit back a sob, her heart racing wildly. She wasn’t this girl anymore! She wouldn’t cry. No one would ever hurt her again. She’d wrought an iron gate around her heart, anger shielding her from pain and sorrow. She would never let anyone make her feel weak again. Never.

Kallian straightened up and wiped her eyes, pulling herself back together. A shimmering doorway had formed, just behind the priest’s body.

She stepped forward, bending down just a moment to take the second dagger off the priest. Then she stepped over the body and through the portal. Anywhere would be better than here.

…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I’ve always hated the generic warden dream during the fade section of DAO, and I thought it was a prime opportunity to bring back a connection to the character’s origin. I hope you enjoyed this departure from the game! You’ll see more of it in the following chapter.


	9. Chapter 9

Alistair _loved_ spending time with his brother.

They had been riding out together nearly every day, sneaking into the larder most nights, and playing little pranks on the quartermaster and guard captain.

“The only person I won’t prank is my wife,” Cailan admitted with a rueful grin.

“Because she can’t take a joke?” Alistair asked.

Cailan chuckled. “No, because I value my marital harmony.” He ruffled Alistair’s hair as they walked through the castle courtyard, and Alistair reached up automatically to fix it.

“You’ll understand when you marry your lady,” he added, and gave Alistair a roguish grin.

Alistair sighed, thinking of her. Elissa was _perfect_. Gorgeous girl, spirited fighter, and way smarter than he was. He counted himself a lucky man.

“Daydreaming again, brother?” Cailan said, waving a hand in his brother’s face. Alistair smacked the hand away as Cailan laughed. “It’s okay, you know. Better than not liking her at all. Even if you look like a mooncalf.” Cailan’s eyes glittered with mirth.

Seeing a bale of hay, Alistair grabbed a fistful and threw it in his brother’s face. “That’s for calling me a mooncalf!”

“It’s war!” Cailan cried, delighted, and the two began to wrestle. They were pretty evenly matched, as they’d learned from previous wrestling contests. The men in the courtyard laughed and made bets as they watched. Alistair ignored everything but his smug brother’s laughter until he heard a voice calling his name.

“Alistair!” He couldn’t place it, though it sounded so terribly familiar… “Alistair!” A loud huff. “Maker’s bloody boots.” The irritated tone pricked at his memory.

Alistair struggled free of his brother and turned his eyes to the speaker. An elf stood before him, a small girl in leather armor with more daggers strapped to her than he could count. Her dark hair was in a high ponytail and her arms were crossed over her chest.

“You need to come with me,” she said. “We have to get out of here. None of this is real.”

Alistair stared, bewildered.

“Who is that?” Cailan said, sounding more like Alistair’s king than his brother. “Take her away.”

“No!” she said, drawing her daggers as the men started to surround her. “This is an illusion!” she cried to him. “Remember the sloth demon! The circle tower! The mmf—” A large hand covered her mouth as the men dragged her struggling form away.

Alistair stood rooted to the spot. The circle tower? He’d never been there, never made it far enough in his templar training. And what was that about a sloth demon? Something tugged at his memory.

“Sorry about the riff-raff,” Cailan said, stepping up beside him. His voice turned cold. “No matter how we plug the holes, undesirable things always seem to get in.”

Alistair turned to look at Cailan, shocked by that uncharacteristic speech. “You aren’t my brother,” he said, with sudden certainty. It was coming back now, the demon that has drawn them all into an unwilling sleep. The fake Cailan’s eyes narrowed.

At the same time, Alistair and his brother both leapt for a nearby sword. They struggled, each trying to get a grip on the handle. Cailan managed to swing it, leaving a sweeping cut on Alistair’s side. Alistair gasped, jumping back to look for another weapon. He ran for another sword, reaching it just in time to block Cailan’s next swing.

They fought with great intensity and equal power. He couldn’t spare a moment to look at Kallian and prayed that she didn’t need his help. Getting tired and desperate, Alistair attempted a fake-out, making Cailan think he was falling into a trap. Instead, Alistair was the one laying the trap. It gave him the opportunity to flank him and knock him out with the pommel of his sword.

When Cailan was down, he ran for Kallian and stabbed straight through one of her captors. With one out of the way, she was able to dispatch the last remaining quickly and easily. She looked over to where Cailan lay.

“You have to kill him,” she said. “Or else you can’t escape.”

Alistair knew it wasn’t his brother, but her words still knocked the wind out of him. “I… I can’t.”

“You can and you will,” Kallian growled. “Do it now. Time is short.”

Alistair swallowed and raised his sword. He closed his eyes before he thrust it downward, into the creature wearing his brother’s face. He felt wretched.

When he opened his eyes, a shimmering doorway stood before him. Kallian looked at him with approval and perhaps a bit of respect. “Come with me,” she said, and stepped through the door.

…

Wynne’s daily routine was, well, routine. And that was the way she liked it. Not that she didn’t enjoy the occasional diversion or trip outside the tower, but she took great pleasure in her students, seeing their improvement every day.

This was her youngest class, little children learning about their new home. She loved seeing them slowly open up and welcome their talents. She taught them more than magic—she taught them that the tower was a safe haven, the only place they could learn and be themselves away from the populace that feared them.

“Good morning, class,” she said with a smile. “Today we begin by reviewing schools of magic. I will cast a spell, and you must tell me which school it comes from. We’ll start with something easy. Raise your hand to answer!”

Wynne made a small gust of cold air sweep the class. There were gasps and giggles. Several students raised their hands. She smiled, calling on a gap-toothed girl who was waving her hand wildly.

“Primal!” the child lisped.

“Correct,” Wynne said. “And this?” She cast a shimmering shield around her.

A few hands were raised, but before she could call on one, a voice from the back of the room rang out. “I don’t give a damn.”

Wynne glared at the newcomer. “Mind your language in front of the children. Who are you? I haven’t seen you at the tower before.”

“Kallian Tabris, grey warden. And you have seen me before, both at the tower and at Ostagar.”

“Ostagar,” Wynne repeated, shaking her head. “Impossible. And I certainly would have remembered a grey warden.” The children looked on in fascination.

Kallian huffed in annoyance. “When we met in the tower, you nearly attacked me because you thought I came with the Right of Annulment. You had a bunch of kids right inside the big door.”

“Impossible,” Wynne said again, despite the doubt that had wormed its way into her mind. “Everything is perfect here at the tower. There’s no need for the Right of Annulment.”

“This,” Kallian said, sweeping her arms wide, “is an illusion. It’s fake. The tower is overrun with demons, a guy named Uldred’s trying to start some kind of revolution, and your Knight Commander is going to kill everyone unless the First Enchanter says the tower is safe. So no, everything is not perfect,” she spat.

“It can’t be,” Wynne said again, but that feeling of doubt was growing.

“You need to leave with me,” Kallian said. “You’ll see.”

“Don’t leave us, Wynne!” cried the tiniest of her students, a little boy no more than five years old. He tugged on her robes, and she wrapped an arm around him.

“I’m sorry,” Wynne said. “I must stay with my students.”

Kallian pulled a dagger from somewhere Wynne didn’t see and flipped it into her hand. “I really wish I could have convinced you some other way.” She looked at the children. “Sorry, demons. She’s coming with me.” And with near supernatural speed, she stabbed the nearest child.

Wynne cried out in horror as the small body slumped to the floor. Then it was chaos. Though she was unarmed, with only the most primitive spells at her fingertips, she moved towards Kallian without thought. She was yanked back by several small hands holding fast to her robes.

“You belong to us,” the children said in unison. “You will never leave.” The smallest boy had begun to climb up her back, reaching his tiny hands around her neck. She couldn’t believe this!

He tightened his grip, more than a child that size could ever exert, and she began to see stars. It was all coming to her now. No wonder she had wanted to believe this lovely dream. Her reality was a nightmare.

She yanked the child off with no more concern for his welfare. She’d battled demons before. This trickery would no longer work, not now that the blinders had been ripped from her eyes.

She battled the childlike demons with her magic until only the smallest boy was left. “Please Wynne, please don’t hurt me,” he begged.

She hardened her heart and thrust out with her magic. An arcane bolt silenced him, and a doorway appeared.

“The way out?” she asked Kallian, who was wiping off her daggers.

“Yes,” Kallian said. “We’ve got work to do.”

…

“Come on, darling,” Eleanor Cousland called to the young woman following her. “We’ve got several more shops to visit today.”

“I’m exhausted, Mother,” Elissa sighed. “Who knew shopping in Orlais could be such a misery?”

“You’re marrying a prince, my dear. If you don’t have the best of everything, people will talk. If that means visiting two dozen shops in one day, then needs must!” Eleanor said crisply.

Two servants followed behind the women, carrying eight or nine bundles between them. At least a dozen more parcels waited back at the hotel, with more to be delivered later. They’d visited dressmakers and fabric warehouses, had ordered nearly twenty pairs of shoes. There were jewels to be had, new gloves, and every kind of delicate ornament money could buy.

“Alistair won’t care,” Elissa protested. “He likes me just as I am.”

“That boy adores you,” Eleanor said with a smile. “But his opinion isn’t the one I’m worried about. You could be queen one day, darling. You must look the part.”

Eleanor directed the servants to wait outside as stepped into a dim shop, her daughter following behind her. Elissa blanched when she saw what kind of shop it was, with displays showing off a number of frothy nightgowns and delicate underthings.

“Mother!” she hissed. “What are we doing here?”

“Something that your betrothed _will _care about,” Eleanor said with a sparkle in her eye. “In a matter of months you will be a married woman. One of your greatest responsibilities is keeping your husband happy. This is part of that.”

Elissa’s face burned. “Do you have to be here for this part?” she whispered.

Eleanor’s lips curved into a slight smile. “You couldn’t possibly do this without the help of a happily married woman.”

Elissa shuddered. “I did _not_ need to hear that.”

As the shop attendant approached and began to speak with them, questioning the ladies about their needs and preferences, the shop’s bell rung again.

“Hello Elissa,” came a voice from behind her. “Fancy seeing you here.”

An elf in armor was watching her with deep amusement etched on her face.

Elissa frowned and touched her mother’s arm. “Do we know her?”

Eleanor’s brows lowered. “She’s not one of our servants.”

“She’s not a servant,” Elissa replied, somehow certain. Seeking a reason for her certainty, she added, “She’s in armor.”

“What are you doing in this store?” the attendant asked the elf. “You don’t belong in this establishment. Get out!”

Elissa’s eyes widened at the attendant’s rudeness, but she didn’t get the opportunity to speak.

“Your ‘establishment’ is nothing but a pretty lie,” the elf said, rolling her eyes at the attendant. “I’m here for her,” she said, pointing at Elissa, “so kindly bugger off.”

Elissa’s jaw dropped at the language as her mother gasped, clearly offended.

“I’m not going anywhere with you,” Elissa said, finding her voice. “I don’t know you!”

The elf sighed. “Kallian Tabris, grey warden, unwilling companion to you and your little prince. We’re fighting the blight together? Remember Ostagar, Redcliffe, the circle tower?”

Elissa blinked. She didn’t want to believe it, but something about the elf was familiar. The places she mentioned… something was important about them. Something happened at Ostagar.

“Get out!” the attendant cried. “I’ll call the guards!”

“Try it,” the elf said. “They’re no match for me.”

“Let’s go,” Eleanor said finally, taking her daughter’s arm and pulling her past the elf to leave.

“No,” Kallian said, grabbing Elissa’s other arm.

“Get off me!” Elissa cried, pushing the elf away. “What’s wrong with you?” She scrambled back towards her mother.

“Damn it, Elissa,” Kallian growled. “Remember me!” She whipped out a dagger and Eleanor screamed.

The way Kallian flipped the dagger triggered a cascading flood of memories that hit Elissa like a sledgehammer. She remembered everything now, everything up to the moment the demon put her under.

Elissa looked at her mother, heart racing. Her mother was dead.

“How…” she turned back to Kallian. “How do we get out of here?”

“No!” Eleanor cried, yanking Elissa back to her. “You are mine! You will never leave this place!” With an inhuman strength, she began to drag Elissa away.

Elissa fought against the creature wearing her mother’s face, struggling to escape her grasp. Kallian rounded on the attendant, making careful swipes with her dagger before plunging it into the woman’s stomach. Only after the attendant collapsed did Elissa find the strength to thrust her mother away. Eleanor fell into a display and tumbled to the floor, mannequins and boxes falling atop her.

“You have to kill her to escape,” Kallian said as she pulled away from the dying attendant.

Those calm words shook Elissa to the core as she remembered leaving her mother and father at Highever Castle on the worst night of her life. Panic gripped her heart. “I won’t!” she said, whipping around to face Kallian. “You can’t make me!”

“It’s the only way, Elissa,” Kallian said, coming forward, holding out her bloody dagger. “You’ll be trapped here forever.”

Elissa shook her head rapidly, tears forming in her eyes. “I left her to die once. You can’t ask me to kill her now. I won’t. I won’t!” Her hands trembled as she held them out in front of her.

There was movement under the wrecked display, and they both turned. When Kallian looked back at Elissa, her eyes shone with fury. “You don’t know what I had to face to get to you,” she spat out. “I’m not leaving without you, you ungrateful bitch!”

As Eleanor finally came to her feet, Kallian wrenched Elissa’s wrist to thrust the girl behind her, and threw her dagger straight into Eleanor’s chest. Elissa screamed as her mother fell to the ground.

When Kallian turned, Elissa was crumpled on the floor, her face in her hands.

“Get up,” Kallian said, pulling her roughly to her feet. “We have to go.”

Elissa looked at her with tearful eyes. “Why didn’t you just leave me? I was happy here.”

Kallian stared at Eleanor’s body for a moment. When she turned back, her eyes were hard. “I need you to fight the demon. I can’t do it alone. Now let’s go.”

Kallian dragged Elissa to the glowing portal and shoved her through.

…


	10. Chapter 10

Alistair was pacing and Wynne staring into the distance when Kallian appeared with a tear-stained Elissa.

“Sweetheart!” Alistair said, jumping forward as soon as he saw her. “Are you alright?”

Elissa looked at him blankly and took a shaky breath. “I can’t do this now.” She looked at Kallian. “You said there’s a demon to fight?” Alistair looked hurt as he took a step back, but Elissa didn’t glance his way.

Instead, she looked around her. They were standing in the raw fade, a strange barren landscape unlike anything in the waking world. The sky was a sickly green, swirling and churning above them.

“The demon that trapped us here. That bastard lost his greatest trick, putting us to sleep, but he gets stronger while we wait. We need to go.”

Alistair gave Elissa another worried look, but she only fingered the bow that was back in her hands. “Let’s go.”

Kallian led them to where the demon waited, and every one of them was ready for vengeance. He’d hurt them deeply, and he would pay.

The demon turned as they approached. “What do we have here? Some rebellious minions? Escaped slaves? “ He laughed in his slow, dragging voice. “My, my… but you do have some gall.”

Elissa’s fingers tightened on the bow.

“Playtime is over,” the demon continued. “You all have to go back now.”

“You will not hold us, demon,” Wynne said, angry. Her staff was in her hand. “We found each other in this place and even you will not stand against us!”

“If you go back quietly, I’ll do better this time,” said the demon, lazy and unconcerned. “I’ll make you much happier.”

“I will never be your slave,” said Kallian, low and menacing. “Not yours or anyone else’s.” With that, she attacked.

The others followed in her wake, honing their hurt and anger into weapons sharp enough to pierce his illusions as he changed form again and again. He cycled through demonic illusions as they destroyed each one, until Kallian, wild with fury, got the last strike. As they all stood, staring at one another, the world seemed to simply fade away.

“What is this?” Alistair asked. “Where are we going?”

…

He got his answer as they woke on the hard floor of the circle tower, next to the sprawled body of a stranger. The demon was nowhere in sight.

“Without the demon, there was nothing to hold us any longer,” Wynne said, dusting herself off as she slowly stood.

Kallian bent over the stranger’s body and pulled a scroll out of his pocket. “I spoke to this man in the fade. He said we can use the Litany of Adralla to stop Uldred from making more abominations. He’s been turning all the mages that resist.”

“Niall,” Wynne said as she came to see the man’s face. “Maker bless you,” she added in a whisper, bending down to close his eyes.

“He gave us a chance,” Kallian said, looking serious. “Now let’s finish this and get the hell out of here.”

They were near the top of the tower now. After climbing one more staircase, they came upon a templar trapped inside some kind of magical prison.

“This trick again?” the man said. “I know what you are. It won’t work. I will stay strong.”

Wynne approached the barrier and studied it. “Uldred must have trapped him. I’m not familiar with this spell.” She looked at the templar inside. “Rest easy, help is here.”

“Ugh, enough visions!” the man cried, huddled on the ground. “If anything in you is human, kill me and stop this game!”

Kallian huffed. “He’s no use to us, and we can’t help him while he’s trapped in that cage. We need to find Uldred and finish this!”

Elissa fingered her bow, eyes troubled but focused. “We know what we need to do and there’s only one way forward. We can come back for him after we deal with Uldred. Let’s go.”

…

They found Uldred and his followers in the harrowing chamber. The resisting mages—including the First Enchanter—were tied up, looking starved and frightened. One was being tortured in the center of the room as some of Uldred’s people were chanting.

Wynne swore under her breath. “They are weakening the veil, trying to create abominations.”

Uldred stopped everything when he saw them standing in the doorway. “We have guests. Volunteers, perhaps?” He chuckled.

“Uldred, I presume?” Kallian said, seemingly unafraid. “Your little revolution is over.” Her hands tightened on her daggers.

“I think not,” he said, eyes flashing. “If you’re here, that means you’ve killed my servants. They will need replacing, you know.”

“That’s not going to happen,” Alistair said, stepping up beside Kallian.

“Ah, you brought a templar,” Uldred said. “Good, I could use a new plaything. The last has gotten… tiresome.”

Elissa nocked an arrow, bowstring creaking ominously.

“You will not have him,” Wynne said. “Or any of us. This is over, Uldred.”

“You think you can stop me?” Uldred said with a dark chuckle. “A mage is merely a larval form of something greater. The chantry has convinced you to fear your power. Whereas I have ascended, and become something… glorious.” His smile widened. “I will give you this gift, Wynne. You and all mages. Whether you welcome it or not!”

And Uldred began to grow and transform, shifting into a massive, grotesque demon.

Kallian shoved the Litany of Adralla into Wynne’s hands before running towards the creature, Alistair hot on her heels.

While Kallian and Alistair fought the demon, Wynne and Elissa fired on his followers as they attempted to turn some of the captive mages. Elissa defended Wynne as she used the Litany to block their attempts.

Alistair had never seen something so horrifying as this creature, like a troll but larger and almost appearing skinless. Black ichor oozed from the wounds he created as the monster fought on. He cried out as it clawed him, the injury burning as if acid had flooded his veins. A wave of cool, healing magic swept over him and he mentally thanked Wynne for her intervention. A glance at Kallian showed her mostly uninjured—she moved so quickly that few could land an attack on her.

As he fought, he could hear dark chanting in a demonic sounding language, and then Wynne’s clear voice with the Litany over it. He couldn’t look back, but prayed to the maker that she was successful. As his and Kallian’s siege continued, the demon slowed. Alistair tried to keep his footing on the now slick and slimy floor.

In a moment of the demon’s distraction, Kallian grabbed his shoulder and motioned for a boost. Understanding her meaning, he tossed her atop the creature where she landed with both daggers pushing down, into the demon’s skull. It let out a fearful screech and fell to the floor.

Alistair helped Elissa and Wynne dispatch the last of his followers before they were finally able to breathe. Elissa went immediately to free the captive mages, while Wynne cast needed healing magic upon them. Alistair turned back to Kallian, who was attempting to wrench her daggers out of the demon’s head.

“Let me,” he said, and yanked the daggers free.

“Thanks,” she said, but the tone was grudging.

“Nice move,” he said with a nod.

She shrugged. “Nice toss.” And they went to join the others, helping the remaining mages to head back down to the base of the tower. Alistair did a head count and winced. Less than twenty adult mages remained. It was a sad state of things, but it was better than the Right of Annulment.

…

After some long discussions with Knight Commander Greagoir and First Enchanter Irving, they’d hashed out a plan to save Connor, and committed themselves to helping with the blight when the time came. Wynne asked leave to travel with them, and though Kallian didn’t like the old woman, she wasn’t fool enough to turn down healing magic. Besides… maybe she’d be lucky enough to get to watch the old woman duke it out with Morrigan. That, at least, should be entertaining.

At the end of the discussions, Greagoir offered to let them sleep at the tower before leaving for Redcliffe in the morning. Kallian couldn’t miss the fear on Alistair’s face or the sudden stiffening of Elissa’s spine. She hoped that she wasn’t as obvious.

“We’re going to take rooms at the Spoiled Princess,” Kallian said, as if that had been the plan all along. “We’ll meet up in the morning.”

Kallian almost rolled her eyes at Alistair’s clear relief. If this idiot was going to be king, he’d need to learn to hide his emotions before then.

Within minutes they were back on the ferry, and even Kallian let out a little relieved sigh at leaving that accursed place.

…

It was a quiet group that sat with their ale and wine that night. None had come out of the fade untouched by the experience.

Wynne couldn’t stop thinking about how weak and foolish she’d been. A simple illusion had deceived her. She could have been trapped until her body gave out, had the warden not come to her rescue. She should have been better than this.

A part of her couldn’t stop picturing that little boy. She knew he was a demon, that he wasn’t real. But it looked real, sounded real. Which was the point.

This was a lesson learned the hard way. It would be a long time before she forgot it.

Elissa was haunted by the sight of her mother dying, the blade sticking out of her chest, the red stain blooming from it. Was that how she died that night in Highever Castle? Was she afraid, in pain? Did she suffer?

In spite of these thoughts, Elissa was also ashamed of herself. She was a useless, sobbing mess while Kallian had to save her. She had always prided herself on her abilities, on her bravery. She’d seen that as what set her apart from the other girls of her class, girls like that useless Habren Bryland. If she wasn’t brave, wasn’t useful, then what good was she?

Alistair couldn’t help thinking about his brother, and how Cailan had set him on this path. By taking him out of the chantry, Cailan had saved him from becoming a full templar, from taking lyrium and living in the tower, hunting mages or killing them in the Harrowing.

In the end, he’d still ended up at the circle tower, striking down a demon in a familiar guise. Templars were taught not to see mages as people so that they could strike them down easily if possession occurred. It wasn’t easy, even knowing that Cailan wasn’t in there. And yet… he had _done_ it. What did that say about him?

Kallian was furious, more so because she was hurting. How dare the demon make her feel that way? How dare it tear her down to the innocent fool she was before that day? Her world was never a safe place, an alienage couldn’t be. But torture and death and rape? It had changed everything. It had changed her. Forged her into a stronger person. The person she had to be to survive this world. She couldn’t go back. She couldn’t be weak again.

Shianni, Soris, and her father were still there, still suffering in the alienage. She left them behind. She didn’t have a choice, but… she _left_ them. Abandoned them. Despite her resolution never to feel weak again, she could never feel truly strong until they were free.

Leliana, who’d been left guarding the mage children, didn’t understand what they’d faced and wasn’t sure if she wanted to know. She settled for playing the lute for her friends, hoping that the healing powers of music would help them. When the others went to attempt sleep, she prayed for them.

None of them slept easy that night.

…

The mages met them the next morning for the day-long trek back to Redcliffe. Wynne chatted with her fellow mages, trying to seem unaffected. Elissa and Alistair walked close to each other, talking quietly with Kitty close behind. Kallian stalked out in front of the group, as angry and alone as ever. Leliana watched each of them curiously and carefully, still trying to puzzle out what had affected them all so deeply.

All the party were relieved to arrive at Redcliffe and find it seemingly unharmed. They met the rest of their party at the castle gate, who’d seen them coming up the road. Morrigan stared disdainfully at the group of mages, while Sten was his usual, unaffected self.

“The demon has been quiet while you were away, but I do not know how much longer it will last,” Teagan said by way of greeting. “Thank the Maker you were successful in your task.”

“How is Eamon?” Alistair asked.

Teagan sighed. “He is unchanged.”

They met Isolde pacing within the great hall. “I sent a guard for the mage, Jowan,” she said. “Please, let us do this as soon as possible.”

“How long do you need to set up?” Teagan asked the First Enchanter.

“Not more than a few minutes, I believe,” Irving replied. “But I wish to speak to Jowan first.”

Jowan looked shaken upon seeing Irving and the other mages, most of whom were dreadfully familiar from his days in the tower. Irving pulled the younger man aside and had a quiet, intense conversation with him. When they returned, Irving looked satisfied while Jowan looked as if he’d been scolded. Neither seemed interested in sharing the topic of their conversation.

“We are ready to begin,” Irving said. “But first, we need a volunteer to go into the fade.”

Kallian looked at Wynne, who already appeared tired from the long day of marching, and then to Morrigan. She didn’t trust any of these strange mages to get it right. She wanted this done properly so she could have Eamon’s gratitude—and his soldiers.

“Morrigan,” she said. “Can you do it?”

As she saw Morrigan toss her head, she knew she’d hit the right nerve.

“Of course I can,” the mage said disdainfully. “As long as these circle mages do their part properly.” In her voice, ‘circle mages’ sounded almost like a slur, an insult the others ignored.

“Then let us begin.” Irving cleared his throat then began chanting in unison with Jowan. As the other mages joined in, the air in the room seemed to get heavy before Morrigan fell to the floor.

…


	11. Chapter 11

Elissa watched as Morrigan collapsed to the floor, the other mages chanting around her. The air felt thick with magic, a feeling she could not have identified a mere few weeks ago. She’d seen more magic in the last few days than in her entire life before. The power was awe-inspiring… and frightening. She understood, as never before, why mages had spent generations locked in towers.

After a swell, the chanting seemed to lower to a quiet murmur, and the choking feeling in the air began to dissipate.

The first enchanter walked over to where the rest of the party was waiting. He gave a grandfatherly smile. “Your friend is safely in the fade now, and this may take some time. Why don’t you all go have a rest? You won’t be needed here before she awakens.”

Kallian immediately shrugged and walked over to Teagan, probably seeing if there were rooms for them or something to eat. Leliana smiled slightly and followed her, passing Sten who hadn’t moved a muscle.

Elissa looked at Morrigan lying motionless on the floor and bit her lip. Alistair squeezed her arm.

“She’ll be alright, love,” he said quietly, and steered her gently away. He bent by her ear as they walked. “You know Morrigan would never allow herself to fail in front of these circle mages.”

Elissa glanced up at him, unable to contain a small smile in response. “Of course not.”

When they reached the others, it seemed like Teagan was giving out room assignments. How lovely to sleep in a real bed.

When Elissa was told she would share with Leliana, the redhead gave her a wink, knowing that Elissa’s nights would instead be by Alistair’s side.

It had been nearly a full day’s journey back from the tower, and all of them were tired. Teagan promised that food would be sent up to the rooms, and the first enchanter swore that they would be woken as soon as the ritual was complete. For the mages, it would be a long, lyrium-fueled night.

…

Just as Leliana had predicted, Elissa followed Alistair to his room, where they shared a meal of cold meat, bread, and fruit before retiring to bed. They held each other close, taking the comfort they always did in each other.

Alistair slept quickly, but Elissa lay awake, considering the events of the past few days. She was still troubled by how weak she had been in the fade, unable to confront the demon in her mother’s guise.

Alistair had been worried sick about her the rest of the day, afraid to approach her, yet shadowing her as faithfully as her hound. Only in the quiet comfort of the inn’s private room did she finally confess her troubles. Tears came, as Elissa knew they would, and she was glad only he was there to see them. She was a bit ashamed at how strong the relief was on his face when she finally started talking.

He didn’t call her weak, even as he held her and wiped her tears. He said she was strong, that she’d survived more than anyone he knew, that she had nothing to be ashamed of. She was still working to believe him, but it was comfort nonetheless.

He didn’t realize that he was the one who had kept her going through every struggle. Before the attack on Highever Castle, she’d lived a privileged life. She’d never known hardship or pain. She’d had everything, not knowing what a blessing that was. And then she lost it all. Without him, she might have given up. He was her strength. Perhaps she should find the nerve to tell him so.

As she was beginning to relax, she felt Alistair shifting next to her. “No,” he murmured. His movements became more agitated. “Cailan! No!”

Elissa cupped his face in her hands. “Alistair, wake up!” She shook his shoulder. “You’re having a nightmare!”

He began to rouse, his movement slowing, and blinked at her in the darkness. “Liss?”

“I’m here,” she said. “You were having a nightmare.” She thought there might be tear tracks on his cheeks, but couldn’t tell in the near-darkness. The fire was only embers now.

He pulled her tight to him, his unshaven cheek rough and wet against her forehead. She could feel him trembling.

“Do you want to talk about it?” she whispered against his chest.

He squeezed her tighter. “I was with Cailan in the battle. At Ostagar,” he said, his voice rough. “I watched the darkspawn kill him.”

“Oh Alistair,” Elissa said, blinking back tears of her own now. She hugged him tight, gently stroking his back through his thin linen shirt. What could she possibly say to comfort him?

“We couldn’t even recover his body,” he said softly.

Elissa pressed her eyes tight, but a tear still slipped out. “We will honor his sacrifice,” was all she could find to say.

Alistair pressed a kiss to her forehead before resting his face against her head once again. “He entrusted Ferelden to me. We have to save it, Liss. We have to.”

“We will,” she promised him. “Together. I’ll always be with you.”

They fell asleep, still twined together, until a knock rattled their door. The ritual was complete.

…

Morrigan appeared unaffected by the ritual, but that was no surprise. She would never show weakness in front of the circle mages. The only thing that seemed to rattle her at all was Isolde’s profuse gratitude for saving her son, culminating in a hug that had Morrigan’s eyes flying wide and looking panicked for a brief moment before the Orlesian woman released her. Alistair and Leliana shared a giggle over that, thoroughly enjoying the expression on Morrigan’s face.

“Connor is resting now,” Isolde said. “He didn’t remember anything, thank the Maker! I must return to him, but…” She looked at Teagan. “You will talk to them about the other thing, no?”

Teagan sighed. “Yes, Isolde. I promise.”

“Thank you!” she said again before moving quickly for the stairs.

The party turned their attention to Teagan. “The mages are resting before their return to the tower. I have given Jowan to them to deal with as they see fit. The first enchanter asked me to tell you, Warden Kallian, that they will be preparing to heed your call as the treaty compels them.”

The warden gave a small nod in acknowledgement. “And the other thing?” she asked.

Teagan sighed. “Eamon is still unchanged. Jowan could not tell us anything useful about the poison he was given, and the circle mages were unable to rouse him. Even before this happened with Connor and the demon, Isolde was convinced there was only one way to save Eamon. The urn of sacred ashes.”

Leliana tilted her head. “Do you mean Andraste’s ashes?”

“Yes,” Teagan confirmed. “Andraste’s sacred ashes have been said to carry the Maker’s own power. To cure any ill.”

“But they’ve been lost for centuries,” Leliana replied, shaking her head. “What makes Isolde think she can find them?”

“If they exist at all,” Kallian interjected. “This sounds like a wild goose chase and a waste of time.”

Teagan put his hands up defensively. “Please, hear me out. I confess I have my doubts as well, but Isolde was in contact with one researcher, Brother Genitivi, who seemed to have a credible lead. His home is in Denerim. All I ask is that you speak to him before giving up on Eamon.”

Alistair looked worried. “I’m not sure Denerim is safe for us at the moment. What about Loghain?”

“Denerim is the biggest city in Ferelden,” Leliana replied. “We can hide easier there than anywhere else.”

Elissa let out a small laugh. “I guess that means I’m not offering up the family estate while we stay there.”

Teagan smiled in response. “Yes, that would probably be wise. But you will go?”

Everyone looked to Kallian. “You’ll call back Eamon’s knights if we do?” she asked. “And prepare them for war?”

Teagan nodded. “I will.”

She shrugged. “Then I guess we’re going to Denerim.”

…

Shortly outside Denerim, Kallian stopped everyone and asked them to gather around. “Listen up,” she said. “This is going to be a short trip. No messing around. We’re going to split up into two groups, one to shop for supplies and one to talk to Brother Genitivi.”

Leliana raised her hand. “Can I go shopping?”

“No,” Kallian said with a glare. “You like shopping too much. You’re visiting Genitivi with me. Besides, he’s a church man, you’re a church woman… it makes sense.”

Wynne cleared her throat. “I’d like to go along to meet Brother Genitivi.”

Kallian shrugged. “Fine. Anyone else have a preference?” When no one spoke she said, “Good. Sten, Elissa, Morrigan, you’re going shopping. Elissa does the talking. Sten and Morrigan, just look intimidating. Get us some good prices. And take the dog with you. I don’t want him underfoot. Alistair, you’re coming with Leliana, Wynne, and I to meet Genitivi. Wear your biggest armor.”

“Why?” Alistair asked, puzzled.

Kallian shrugged. “You never know if we’ll need some intimidation of our own.” She looked at the others. “When you’re done, meet by the chantry gates. Elissa, you know what we need. Don’t spend all my money.” With that, Kallian turned around and started marching towards the city gates.

…

Elissa enjoyed the normalcy of shopping, even if it was for weapons, armor, and camping supplies, accompanied by a giant and a witch of the wilds.

She’d shopped often in Highever, usually with her mother, her brother, or a couple of servants. Her mother always said they should do their best to patronize local merchants and support the Highever economy. Those had been happy days, happier than she’d ever realized. Looking back, she’d been so… ungrateful. What would she give to spend one more day with her mother dragging her to the shops? Or wandering the markets with Fergus, teasing each other with the worst gifts they could threaten to buy? Elissa wiped at her eyes and quickened her pace. There was no time for such reminiscence.

The Denerim market was hardly unfamiliar to her, though she patronized different merchants today. Never in her old life would she have had to order swaths of oiled canvas for tents or the kind of food that wouldn’t spoil on a long journey. Nor had she ever had to purchase second-hand weapons—hers were always made by the castle blacksmith, forged especially for her. But things were different now.

_They won’t be forever_, she reminded herself. Should they succeed, Alistair would be crowned king with her beside him. She would never worry about her safety or her next meal. But it wouldn’t be the same. She would never be that carefree girl again.

It didn’t take long—especially with Sten looming behind her—to purchase everything they needed. So they waited by the chantry, watching people go by with the chant floating on the breeze, until Kallian and the others finally returned.

Elissa frowned at a smear of blood on Alistair’s armor. “You missed a spot,” she said, wiping at it. “What happened?”

Kallian answered for him. “Someone doesn’t want Genitivi finding the ashes. A guy was posing as his assistant. Turns out, he killed the real assistant… so we had to kill him.”

“I do hope the good brother wasn’t hurt,” Morrigan said, voice dripping with sarcasm.

Wynne glared at her. “Brother Genitivi had gone on ahead, to a village called Haven.”

“I’ve never heard of it,” Elissa wondered. “It must be quite small.”

“It’s not on any maps of Ferelden,” Alistair explained. “But Genitivi’s notes give enough detail that we should be able to follow him.”

“When do we leave?” Elissa asked, looking at Kallian.

“We camp outside the city tonight. Tomorrow we’re on our way,” she answered, already walking back towards the city gates.

Sten grumbled, but said nothing. Elissa wondered if he was frowning more than usual. It was hard to tell.

…


	12. Chapter 12

Haven was a cold, miserable sort of place in the Frostback Mountains. Or at least Alistair thought so. Technically they hadn’t reached it yet, but he could see some buildings in the distance. At least Genitivi’s directions were accurate. The Frostbacks were bad enough when you knew where you were going. He could only imagine how wretched this journey might have been if they were lost.

When they finally reached the little village, a guard stood at the gate. “What are you doing in Haven?” the guard asked, already hostile. “There’s nothing for you here.”

Kallian raised an irritated brow. “I have business here.”

“No you don’t,” the guard said.

Alistair winced. Now Kallian would really be pissed off.

“I’m looking for Brother Genitivi,” she said, as if speaking to a small child. “I know he came to Haven and I need to speak with him. I recommend you let me through.” Kallian paired this speech with a bit of knife twirling.

The guard eyed the knife. “Perhaps Revered Father Eirik would know of him. Unfortunately he’s busy ministering to the villagers at the moment and cannot be disturbed.”

“Revered _father_?” Leliana repeated in surprise. “I have never heard of this.”

“It’s always been thus in Haven,” the guard said firmly. “We do not question tradition. Now I must ask you to leave.”

Kallian was silent for a moment. Alistair could feel her seething. “You wouldn’t turn us away without letting us purchase a few supplies for the journey, would you? These mountains are treacherous, you know.”

“Very well,” he said. “But when you have purchased your supplies, I suggest you and your companions leave.”

Kallian didn’t deign that with a response as the guard stepped aside.

“They are hiding something,” Morrigan said quietly. “Tis obvious, is it not?”

They had barely taken a dozen more steps before Sten spoke up. “Interesting strategy. Do you intend to keep going north until it becomes south, and attack the Archdemon from the rear?”

Everyone stopped at his words. Alistair thought it almost sounded like sarcasm. It definitely sounded angry.

Kallian whipped around in irritation. “If you haven’t been paying attention, Sten, that’s your problem, not mine. To reach the Archdemon we need armies. I get armies through this stupid little thing called politics. Not that I would understand a brutish society like yours to understand that!”

Alistair froze. Elissa gasped beside him and grabbed his arm. The stunned expressions of the others surrounded the arguing pair.

“I will not simply follow in your shadow as you run from battle!” Sten growled.

“I freed you from that prison, Sten. You’d be dead if not for me. So get yourself in order!” Kallian snapped, her eyes like burning embers.

“No,” Sten said firmly. “I’m taking command.”

“Over my dead body!” Kallian cried.

Sten nodded. “If necessary.” And he drew his sword. “Defend yourself, Warden. We will settle this.”

She drew her daggers from their sheathes. “If that’s how you want to play this, fine.”

Alistair began to reach for his own sword, but a hand stopped him. He glanced to his side to see Leliana shaking her head. “We mustn’t interfere,” she said quietly.

“We can’t let him kill the only grey warden we have!” Elissa hissed from his other side.

“It isn’t a fight to the death,” Leliana said. “And if it starts to go that way, we will stop him.”

“Does _she_ know that?” Alistair asked warily. He’d rarely seen Kallian this angry… and she was angry a _lot_. Sten was angry too, but Alistair’s bet was on the warden. Sten would have to get lucky to land a hit on her, she was so small and so fast. By the time his heavy sword had completed its arc, she was nowhere near where it landed. Though it was hard for her to get near him as well. His reach was long. Kallian was small, with only daggers to defend herself. She could avoid being hit, sure. But could she actually defeat him?

The minutes felt like hours as they watched. Leliana’s hand still covered his on the pommel of his sword. Elissa clung to his other side, squeezing his arm every time it she feared Kallian would be injured. Each time the elf would dodge out of the way, moving supernaturally fast. If it wasn’t their friends—if there wasn’t so much at stake—he would have enjoyed watching two skilled fighters in such opposite disciplines. As it was, Alistair’s heart was in his throat. Only Leliana’s hand kept him from drawing his sword.

And then, faster than any of them could track, Kallian was on Sten’s back, her knife at his throat. “Yield,” she growled. The tip pressed slightly, and a drop of blood rolled down his neck.

The world seemed to stop. Then… “I yield,” came Sten’s low grumble.

When Kallian came to face him he said, “You are strong enough. What is your command?”

She stared at him for a long moment, blood shining on her dagger as she considered him. “I don’t want to hear any more dissent, Sten,” she spat out. “Is that clear?”

“Understood,” he said, and the party breathed a sigh of relief as he sheathed his sword.

Kallian looked at the gathered group as she wiped the blood away. “I’m heading to the shop, like I told that idiot guard. Leliana, Morrigan, do some exploring. Find out what they’re hiding.”

The two broke off from the group and ducked behind a building while the rest of them headed towards the shop.

…

Leliana didn’t mind using her bardic skills for a good cause, and while breaking and entering didn’t usually fall in that category, this seemed an adequate exception. How could they find out what the villagers were hiding if they didn’t actually look around?

The first house they broke into seemed normal enough, until they went into the back room. Leliana stopped and stared at an altar covered in blood.

“That is human blood,” Morrigan interjected.

Leliana turned to her, frowning. “How do you know?”

Morrigan tossed her head. “I just do. I also know that one cannot lose that much blood and still survive.”

Leliana shuddered as Morrigan swept away.

When they’d stopped off in Denerim, Leliana had offered to give Morrigan a quick makeover so she wouldn’t stand out so much. Morrigan had become offended at the thought, though Leliana didn’t quite understand why. She was a beautiful woman, and would be more so if she didn’t dress herself in crow feathers. Now she was starting to think Morrigan preferred being feared.

Shortly after leaving the first home, they ran into a child who showed them a human finger bone. Again, creepy. He refused to talk much to them, just told them that all the adults were up at the chantry. Leliana wondered if their idea of church involved more altars and human blood. They certainly weren’t a part of the official chantry—the chantry would never approve a revered father!

Catching sight of Kallian up ahead, they moved quickly to join her and the others.

“Well?” Kallian asked.

“Something strange is definitely going on,” Leliana said. “We found an altar covered with human blood in one of the houses. Enough blood that the person shouldn’t have survived. And outside, a child playing with a finger bone.”

Morrigan stepped in. “The villagers are all at the chantry. I believe we should interrupt their service should we wish to know the truth.”

“And you?” Leliana asked. “Did you learn anything at the shop?”

Kallian shrugged. “The shopkeeper attacked us when I tried to peek in his back room. So we didn’t get to ask a lot of questions.”

“He had good reason to keep us out,” Alistair said, looking angry. “We found the body of one of Eamon’s knights. I only hope that Brother Genitivi has survived.”

Kallian nodded. “Let’s check out that church.”

…

They stepped inside the chantry as the revered father was speaking. Wynne’s eyes widened at the sight of him. “He’s a mage,” she whispered to Kallian, who gave a slight nod.

“We are blessed beyond measure, chosen of the holy,” the revered father said. “We are beloved to be her guardians. This sacred duty is given to us alone. Rejoice, my brethren, and prepare your hearts to see her. Lift up your voices and despair not, for she will raise her faithful servants to glory.” At this, he noticed the movement at the back of the room and frowned.

“Ah, welcome,” he said as Kallian strode forward, the others following behind. “I heard we had visitors in the village. I trust you’ve enjoyed your time in Haven so far?” he asked.

“Don’t bother pretending this place is normal,” Kallian spat. “We know you killed Arl Eamon’s knights. What do you have to say for yourselves?”

Father Eirik looked at the villages. “This is what happens when you let outsiders into the village. They have no respect for our privacy.” He looked at Kallian. “You, stranger, do not understand our ways. You would bring war to Haven in your ignorance!”

“What is there to respect?” she asked. “Your fake chantry? Your ritual sacrifices? Or your murdering of outsiders?” she demanded. “What have you done with Brother Genitivi?”

“We don’t owe you any explanation, outsider. We have a sacred duty. Failure to protect her would be a greater sin.” He smiled beatifically as he looked at his followers. “All will be… forgiven.” And he pulled a staff from behind the chantry’s altar.

It was all-out chaos as the villagers attacked. They were beset on all sides by the clumsy attempts of the villagers. The greater danger was Father Eirik, matching Morrigan spell for spell.

Alistair hated fighting people so untrained, so helpless in the face of actual warriors. But they just wouldn’t stop! He was grateful for his armor as their knives scraped against it. At the end of the battle, some villagers were dead, but others were merely knocked out. Alistair was glad not to kill them all.

Father Eirik was the last to go down, but the combined work of Wynne and Morrigan had silenced him forever. Upon seeing him lying still on the chantry floor, Sten swung and struck Eirik’s head from his shoulders. When the others looked at him oddly, he simply said, “It is the only way to ensure a mage stays dead.”

“Explore the chantry,” Kallian ordered afterwards. “Look for any other rooms or passages.”

After a few short minutes, they heard Leliana yelling. “Genitivi is here! Wynne, we need healing!”

They all rushed to the room where Leliana kneeled above a man on the ground, his leg looking twisted and mangled.

“Who are you?” the man was asking. “They sent you to finish it?”

“No,” Leliana said, finding his hand and squeezing it. “We are here to help. You are Brother Genitivi, are you not?

“I am,” he said. “Who sent you?”

During this exchange, Wynne had arrive, and was kneeling by his leg. Kallian strode up beside Leliana. “Arl Eamon’s brother sent us to find you, and to find the ashes if we can,” the warden said. “I take it you haven’t found them yet?”

“Not yet,” he said. “But with your help…” He groaned as Wynne examined his leg. “The leg’s not doing so well. I can’t feel my foot anymore.”

Wynne looked grim. “It will most likely need to be amputated. I can help with the pain, but healing your foot is beyond my skills.”

Genitivi sighed. “That is no worse than what I expected. But there are more important things than an old man’s feet.” He took a deep breath. “There is no time to rest—I’m so close! The urn is just up the mountain! I’m sure of it.”

“How can you be sure?” Elissa asked from above him, where the others huddled worriedly.

“My research led me to Haven, and once here I heard the villagers speak enough to be certain. At the top of the mountain there is an old temple built to protect it. The door is kept locked, but I know what the key is. The revered father wears an unusual necklace. That pendant is the key to the temple door.”

Kallian raised a brow and reached into her pack. “This necklace? I took it off his body moments ago.”

“Yes! That is the key. Take me up the mountainside and I will show you how to unlock the temple.”

Kallian crossed her arms. “Climbing the mountain is no small feat for a man who can’t walk.”

“I… will need help,” he admitted. “But there are many of you, and strong. And you need me to unlock the temple! For the urn, any pain is worth enduring.”

“That’s not necessary,” Kallian said. “Sten,” she barked, turning. “You’re going to carry the brother up the mountain.”

Sten glared and grumbled, but wouldn’t dispute her now, not after she’d defeated him in single combat. Genitivi’s eyes widened at the sight of the qunari, but he didn’t protest as he was lifted into the large man’s arms.

As they climbed the mountain, they discussed Haven, its people, and the ashes. The strangest part was what Genitivi said about the villagers and their fanaticism towards Andraste. That they believed themselves her protectors, but spoke about her as if she were still living, not simply an urn of ashes.

When they reached the temple at the mountain’s peak, Sten was instructed to set Genitivi down. He took Father Eirik’s amulet and manipulated it to fit the temple door. It swung open to reveal a great hall, filled with ice and snow, barren and devoid of signs of life.

After a quick examination of the area, they determined that it seemed safe enough. Brother Genitivi seemed eager to study the statues and carvings in the room, and Kallian was glad not to have to drag him onward. She decided to leave Wynne with him, in case she could heal him some more, and Sten, as both protection and punishment for his mutiny earlier. Elissa decided to leave her dog as well. There was something magical about the temple that the animal didn’t seem to like, and she wouldn’t force him to go any further.

Kallian stepped forward into the ancient temple, her friends and followers behind her.

…


	13. Chapter 13

Kallian, along with Alistair, Elissa, Leliana, and Morrigan, explored room by ancient room of the temple. Most were frozen over, and some were filled with giant rats and rabid wolves. As they went deeper and deeper down the temple’s winding hallways, they were attacked by violent cultists. These were more skilled than the villagers, and none paused in their attacks long enough to be questioned. The found bunk rooms, storerooms, and strange cult-like writings, talking about the “risen Andraste.” Whatever that meant. Some of these cultists had summoned lesser spirits and wraiths that had to be defeated.

Soon the stone halls of the temple became rocky caverns inside the mountaintop. And still they continued on. This is where things became even more strange. Along with the cultists appeared dragonlings and drakes.

“Are they raising baby dragons?” Leliana asked, horrified.

“So it would seem,” came Morrigan’s calm reply, as she froze several with an icy blast from her staff.

Shortly after, they found a stable of goats, most likely kept as food for the small dragons. And then they found the eggs. Massive, opalescent eggs were raised on altars, like holy objects prepared for some arcane sacrament. Shafts of light poured down on them from cracks in the cavern above.

“Destroy them all,” Kallian ordered, and began smashing them.

“Is it some kind of dragon cult?” Elissa asked, vaguely remembering something about them in one of her history lessons. “I could have sworn my tutor said the dragons had died out.”

“Evidently your tutor was wrong,” Morrigan said tartly, irritated that one of the drakes had spit fire on her skirt and scorched it.

“The real questions is,” Alistair asked, “where did the eggs come from?” No one answered.

They wound down a few more twisted passages before the rocks opened up into a large cavern. Before them stood a dozen cultists, waiting.

“I don’t like the look of this,” Leliana muttered.

Kallian strode forward fearlessly, coming face to face with the man who seemed to be their leader. The cultists were all armed and armored, but for the first time, they didn’t attack.

“You will go no further,” the man said.

“We’ve killed all the others,” Kallian said. “And we’ll do the same to you if you don’t step aside.”

“The righteous do not fear death,” he said grandly. Kallian rolled her eyes. Behind her, Morrigan scoffed.

He ignored their scorn, continuing his diatribe. “You have defiled our temple! You have spilled the blood of the faithful and slaughtered our young! No more. Tell me, intruder, why have you done this? Why have you come here?”

“I’m here for the urn of sacred ashes. I don’t care about your stupid town or your stupid temple or even about your stupid dragon eggs!” Kallian ranted. “Your people could have lived if they’d just gotten out of the Maker-damned way!”

“All this for an ancient relic?” the man asked, shaking his head. “Know this, stranger… The prophet Andraste has overcome death itself and has returned to her faithful in a form more radiant than you can imagine! Not even the Tevinter Imperium could hope to slay her now! What hope do you have?”

Kallian huffed. “I don’t know what you’re talking about, nor do I care. I’m going to get those ashes one way or another and you can’t stop me!”

The man reached for his weapon. “To arms, my brethren! Destroy this blasphemer!”

When he swung his axe, Kallian dodged, and the battle began in earnest.

Elissa and Leliana stayed back, firing arrows in support of Alistair and Kallian, who were easily being swarmed. Morrigan went toe to toe with the cultist’s spellcaster, drawing upon the arcane to find more creative ways to hobble each other. Frustrated, Morrigan transformed into a giant spider, leaping upon the other mage to destroy him. Elissa winced away from the sight, finding a further target.

Despite the cultists’ greater numbers, the battle didn’t last long. Afterwards they tended their injuries and took stock of their weapons and armor.

“What do you think he meant by saying Andraste had overcome death?” Alistair asked, wiping down his sword.

“I think he’s obviously delusional,” Kallian said, as Elissa bandaged a small cut on her forehead.

“I think,” Morrigan said, in her most superior tone of voice, “we are soon to discover where exactly the dragon eggs came from.”

“You mean, a live dragon?” Elissa asked, her fingers stilling in her shock.

“What else?” the mage asked.

“I have to admit, I was hoping the answer was weird magic,” Alistair confessed.

“Weird magic?” Morrigan repeated, incredulous.

“Enough,” Kallian said, standing. “If we’re done, we should get moving. Dragon or no dragon.”

They were all cautious as they exited the temple, seeing a series of arches ahead of them leading to a further doorway in the mountain. It seemed deserted. Not a cultist in sight.

And then a cry rent the air, fiercer and sharper than anything they’d ever heard. It was followed in a moment by the dragon swooping down ahead of them. Its scales were a dark shimmering purple, glinting off the snow. It roared over the landscape, but didn’t seem to see them as they stood in shock, just outside the cavern.

“Maker’s balls,” Kallian cursed under her breath.

The dragon landed on a ledge up above the doors they were trying to reach, curling up as if to nap.

“We… we don’t have to fight it,” Elissa said shakily. “We just have to get inside without disturbing it. That’s all.”

“That’s _all_?” Kallian repeated, looking at her incredulously. “Damn it.” She started walking. “Come on and don’t make any noise. That means you, Alistair.”

After a few beats, the others slowly followed behind her, trying to stay as silent as possible.

Elissa’s heart was pounding so loud she feared the dragon would hear it as they crept down the path. Each time they reached another one of the arches, they stopped behind it and peered up at the dragon. It never moved a muscle. They kept creeping forward until Kallian looked over to the side of the path where she saw a large cache of sparkling gold.

“Guys,” she whispered. “Look at that treasure.”

“Don’t dragons hoard gold?” Elissa said, putting her hand on Kallian’s shoulder. “We shouldn’t disturb it.”

“The dragon didn’t notice us walking down here. Why would it notice me walking over there?” Kallian asked, and shrugged Elissa’s hand off. “I’m going. You can join me if you want.”

“Kallian stop!” Leliana hissed, but it was already too late.

Elissa glanced back and forth between Kallian and the dragon as the elf got closer and closer to the gold pile. The dragon didn’t react… until Kallian’s hand touched the pile.

A roar echoed through the mountains.

“Shit! Shit!” Kallian ran towards them. They all ran towards the door.

The dragon landed directly in their path. Elissa glanced back at the now-distant cavern behind them. They would never reach it in time.

“We have no choice,” she said, and nocked an arrow on her bow. When she fired, it bounced right off the dragon’s scales. “Maker’s breath, how are we going to do this?”

Her eyes widened as Alistair ran forward fearlessly and began attacking the dragon with his sword. She’d be damned if she didn’t provide him with some support. This time she aimed for the underbelly. This arrow struck.

She and Leliana stood on either side of an arch, leaning out long enough to take each shot. Morrigan stood exposed behind them, casting greater magic than they’d ever seen from her. A storm raged around the dragon, lightning and thunder that didn’t seem to touch Alistair or Kallian as they fought her. The dragon screeched in fury, spewing fire that had Elissa hiding behind the stone of the arch. Even there, she could feel the heat, and looked out worriedly to check if her friends were okay.

Even from this distance, she could see the sweat pouring down Alistair’s face, but he seemed unharmed. She continued her assault. Suddenly, the dragon flapped her wings and rose into the air, the pressure knocking Kallian and Alistair to the ground where they stood. It landed behind Morrigan, who took off at a run. She threw up an arcane shield just in time to avoid the dragon’s fiery breath.

Kallian reached the dragon soon after, going under it to stab its more delicate underside. Leliana and Elissa continued their assault by arrows, but the dragon barely seemed to be weakening. Alistair, slower in his armor, but with a powerful swing, took longer to catch up to the dragon. He managed to get a few good hits in, which infuriated the dragon. She swept him away with a claw and Elissa gasped. The dragon had cut a huge slash in his armor, but as he stood up he seemed no worse for the wear. Thank the Maker for plate armor!

They continued this assault for what seemed like an eternity. They were all slowing down. Elissa’s arms burned from the repetitive motion of shooting. Morrigan looked paler than ever. Even Kallian seemed slower than usual. But they had made the dragon bleed. Injuries littered the dragon’s throat and belly. But what did it take to kill a dragon?

The dragon lifted off again, heading towards the temple doors, but she feinted, breathing fire across the landscape, over the horde of gold, and landing nearly on top of Morrigan. They all stared in horror as the dragon caught Morrigan between her sharp teeth before the mage could get away. It thrashed her around and tossed her to the ground, seemingly lifeless with a half-moon of giant teeth marks bleeding on her pale torso.

“No!” Leliana cried, firing more swiftly than ever. A furious Kallian leapt atop the dragon and slashed through its wings with her daggers. The dragon roared in fury, breathing fire towards where Alistair was running. He ducked behind one of the stone arches just in time to avoid a direct blast.

“We have to end this,” Kallian yelled to Alistair as he approached. “Toss me, like with the demon.”

With a doubtful look, he did as she asked, tossing her up to land on the dragon’s head. She caught herself with her daggers, and the dragon screamed as they rent her flesh. Distracted by the elf atop her, the dragon didn’t notice Alistair move beneath her, stabbing upwards through her throat. Her roar was an angry gurgle. Kallian finished it with a stab through the eye.

And finally, the dragon stumbled and fell, and didn’t move again.

After waiting a breath, Elissa ran to where Morrigan lay motionless on the icy ground. Leliana was a step behind her.

Elissa put her ear to the witch’s chest. “She’s still breathing! Oh, Maker!”

“We have to stitch closed the wounds,” Leliana said. “Do you have thread?”

Elissa’s hands were unsteady as she opened her pack and went digging for the first aid—and sewing—supplies. Leliana’s fingers were deft as she began tending the wounds, first wiping them with cloth soaked in alcohol.

“When she wakes, she may be able to heal herself, but for now we must make do with mundane methods,” the redhead said in a clipped tone, distracted by the work at hand.

Elissa stood, turning to see Alistair and Kallian behind them. After assuring herself that Alistair was mostly uninjured, she turned to the warden.

“Why?” Elissa cried, grabbing Kallian’s arm. Tears streamed down her face. “Why did you do that? This is your fault!” She motioned wildly to Morrigan.

Kallian ripped her arm out of Elissa’s grasp, running towards what had been a pile of coins, jewelry, and gems. Now it was a melted mass from the dragon’s fire. There was no way they could take it with them.

“Damn it!” Kallian cried. “Damn it!” She wheeled on Elissa, who reeled back at the sight of tears on the elf’s cheeks. “You want to know why? Because my family and all my friends, everyone I ever knew before becoming a warden, lives in poverty and fear,” she spat. “This kind of gold could save them! It could change everything! But you wouldn’t understand that, you wealthy, privileged bitch!” She stormed off, kicking at the snow drifts in her anger.

Elissa dropped to her knees beside the ruined pile of gold, her mind full of chaos and limbs trembling. Blinking back her tears, she started searching for anything that could be salvaged. A scattering of a few gems and coins remained, so she gathered them up. She would give them to Kallian later… as a peace offering.

…


	14. Chapter 14

Once Leliana had stitched and bandaged Morrigan’s injuries, the three of them carried her inside. There was a short hallway leading into a small atrium, with a spectral guardian standing across the room before an ornate door.

“I’ll stay here with Morrigan,” Leliana said. “You three go on.” Her voice went soft. “Perhaps one day I will be able to see the ashes for myself. But not today.”

After settling Morrigan, Kallian gave Leliana a nod and approached the guardian. Alistair and Elissa followed behind.

“I bid you welcome, pilgrims,” the guardian said as they approached. “I am the guardian, the protector of the urn of sacred ashes. I have waited years for this.” He paused. “It has been my duty, my life to prepare the way for the faithful who come to revere Andraste.”

“Well… we’re here,” Kallian said, clearly uncomfortable and sensibly unwilling to say what their real goal was. “Where is the urn?”

“You have come to honor Andraste, and you shall… if you prove yourselves worthy.”

Kallian frowned. “How do you decide if we’re worthy?”

“It is not my place to choose,” the guardian said. “The Gauntlet will do so. If you are found worthy, you will reach the urn.”

Kallian let out a weary sigh. “Right. Let’s get on with this, then.”

The guardian held up a hand. “Before you go, there is something I must ask. I see the path that led you here was not easy. There is suffering in your past. Your suffering, and the suffering of others. Do you blame yourself for not reaching your cousin Shianni in time? Do you believe you could have spared her suffering had you acted differently?”

Kallian bristled. “That is none of your business! Get out of my head!”

“Peace,” the guardian said. “I will respect your privacy.”

He turned to Alistair. “Young prince. You wonder if you could have convinced your brother not to go into battle. You wonder how things could have been different. Do you feel you failed him?”

He hung his head. “Yes,” he confessed. “Yes I do. I should have done anything to keep him from fighting.”

Elissa squeezed his hand. “He wanted to fight, it was his choice, his free will,” she said. “It’s not your fault.”

“And you,” said the guardian. “A lady before your time.” Her spine straightened. “You left your father and mother to die. You abandoned them to the mercies of Arl Howe’s men.” Alistair growled at this, squeezing Elissa’s hand back so tight it almost hurt.

The guardian continued. “Do you regret leaving them, even knowing that staying would have meant your death?”

Elissa closed her eyes for a moment. “No,” she said finally, and opened her eyes, full of tears. “No matter how much I wanted to stay, I know I did the right thing,” she said in a trembling voice. “They wanted me to live. I may be the last Cousland left.” It still hurt not to know what had become of Fergus. Even now, they had heard nothing of his survival.

“The way is open,” the guardian said. “Good luck, and may you find what you seek.” He disappeared into mist, and the door behind him swung open.

Kallian looked behind her, at her two companions gathering themselves. “Come on,” she said, and stepped through the door. They entered a room full of ghostlike figures, who each identified themselves as a person who was touched by the life of Andraste. Each had a story to tell and a riddle to solve.

Between the three of them, none of the riddles seemed terribly hard, and they progressed through the room easily. As they solved the final riddle, three doors at the end of the room opened.

“We had better each take one,” Elissa said. At Kallian’s nod of agreement, they stepped through their respective doors.

…

Kallian came face to face with the spectre of the man she had almost married. “Nelaros,” she said in surprise.

“So you haven’t forgotten me,” he said.

“I barely know you,” she countered.

“It’s not about me,” he said. “It never was.”

“I know,” she said, and she did. It was about what happened that day, and about what her people faced every day.

“You got out,” he said simply. “It wasn’t how you meant to get out. But you escaped, and they’re still back there.”

“I know that,” she said again, sharply this time. “I think about them all the time.” She thought about that pile of gold that the dragon had melted. She thought about Morrigan laying still on the icy ground.

“It wouldn’t have helped,” Nelaros said. “An elf with gold? Must be stolen. They would only punish you, or worse, punish them.”

“Then what?” She began raising her voice. “Are you trying to tell me I can’t help them? You know I won’t stop trying!”

“That’s not what I’m saying,” he said. “It’s not just your people. It’s not just your alienage. It’s systematic.”

Kallian threw her hands in the air. “How am I supposed to fix the system? I’m just a poor idiot who accidentally ended up a grey warden!”

“A poor idiot who walks with royalty, Kallian,” he said softly.

As she considered his words, he said, “Remember us, Kallian. Remember what you’re fighting to protect.” And he disappeared.

Kallian now noticed a door beyond where he had stood and stepped through it.

…

When Elissa walked through the door, she started running, until her father raised a hand. “I’m not really here, Pup.”

She stopped short, let out a little shuddering laugh, and said, “Of course not.” Through the glitter of tears she said, “Is it really you?”

He smiled. “As real as I can be, in death.”

“I’m so sorry—” she began, but he shook his head.

“Don’t, Elissa. You’ve done nothing to be sorry for.” He smiled. “I am so proud of you.”

A tear slipped down her cheek. “Really, Father?”

“You have done your duty,” the specter said. “You carried yourself like a Cousland. You’ve supported your friends, fought against evil, and taken care of as many people as you could along the way. But it’s not over yet. You have a long, hard road ahead, Pup.”

“I know,” she said, thinking of the war, of what they had to accomplish to even face the darkspawn.

“You have many choices ahead of you. Remember a Cousland does their duty first. Do not allow revenge to lead you astray.”

“I won’t,” she promised him.

“Your mother and I will see you again someday,” he said. “But I hope not for many years. Goodbye, Pup.” He disappeared into mist, revealing a door behind him.

Wiping away her tears, Elissa went through.

…

Alistair blinked twice at the apparition in front of him. “Brother?”

Cailan smiled. “Alistair. How I wish I could be with you. What a grand adventure!”

Alistair couldn’t help but laugh. “Thanks, but I’d rather not be on it if I had the choice.”

Cailan’s smile turned a little sad. “You already have wisdom I never managed to acquire. You’re going to make a wonderful king, brother.”

“I never wanted to be one,” Alistair said immediately. “All I wanted was a family.”

“I know,” he said. “That’s why I betrothed you to the lovely Elissa so quickly. I knew she and her family would be good to you. And she still will.”

“I love her,” Alistair confessed, as he’d never done before. “I don’t know where I would be without her.”

“She was what you needed. Not strength, just… confidence.” Cailan smiled softly. “She makes you your better self. Anora did that for me, when I let her.”

“Why did you have to fight that night?” Alistair asked. “Why couldn’t you stay back where you were safe? I should have argued harder. I should have made you stay!”

“You couldn’t have made me do anything, Alistair,” Cailan said, with a hint of steel in his voice. “No one can force the monarch. They can only be persuaded. Something to remember, in the future.” He paced in front of Alistair. “And as for why I fought? We’ve already had that discussion.”

“But that was before you—”

“Before I died,” Cailan finished. “I know. But it doesn’t change anything. It was my choice to fight that battle. My destiny to die. And yours is to save Ferelden and rule over it.”

“It’s too much,” Alistair protested. “You can’t expect that of me. I may be your brother, but I’m nobody. A child who slept with the dogs. A failed templar initiate. A—”

“A king,” Cailan interrupted solemnly. “You are a king. And you were always meant to be. Trust me, Alistair, if you can’t trust yourself.”

Alistair swallowed hard. “I’ll try.”

With one last boyish smile, Cailan vanished, leaving a fine mist in his wake.

After a few deep breaths, Alistair strode through the door that appeared before him.

…

Somehow, all three of them seemed to enter the next room at the same time. They saw each other a moment before noticing the _others_ in the room.

“What…” Elissa trailed off.

Alistair’s eyes went wide.

“Maker’s bloody balls,” cursed Kallian.

Across the room stood three spectral enemies… who looked exactly like the three of them.

It was the strangest battle they’d ever fought. Two Alistairs and two Kallians battled in the middle of the room, while two Elissas took shots at each other. Alistair was embarrassed by how quickly the real Kallian seemed to defeat his double as they took hers on two-on-one. All the while, Elissa—well, both Elissas—were shooting and running, trying to avoid each other’s arrows. His Elissa was limping now, as she’d taken a shot in the leg. The other Elissa had blood running down her shoulder, but it hadn’t seemed to slow her down. As he and Kallian took down the _other_ Kallian—who was so damn slippery!—they moved to swarm Elissa’s double, overtaking her quickly now that it was three on one.

When the last specter had vanished, so did their injuries.

“That was weird,” Alistair said.

“Not really keen on killing myself,” Kallian said. She smirked a little. “Not too sad you didn’t manage it though.”

“Laugh it up, warden,” Alistair said. “This just means I’m going to want to train with you later.”

“Damn it,” she said, as they headed into the next room.

Across the room was a door, but between them and the door was a deep chasm. There seemed to be the end of a bridge near the door, but it only extended a few feet. Ringing the chasm were some large inscribed plates.

“A puzzle, I think,” Elissa said with a frown. “I suppose we should try standing on the plates.”

As they explored, they discovered that a part of the bridge would appear for each plate they stood on, but it was transparent, not corporeal. Almost by accident, they realized that a plate on each side would correspond, and if both correct plates were pressed, the part of the bridge would become corporeal. Unfortunately, as soon as they stepped off, it would disappear.

“What if someone’s standing on that part of the bridge?” Elissa called, as she stepped on the plate for the first piece.

“Then they fall to their death,” Kallian said, deadpan. “Not it.”

“I’ll do it,” Elissa said, looking at Kallian. “I trust you.”

Kallian blinked and looked away. “Fine. Go stand at the start of the bridge.”

Kallian stood on her plate and Alistair stood on his. Elissa stepped onto the first part of the bridge. It was solid.

“Seems safe enough,” she said. “Now one of you step off your plate.”

Alistair looked like he was going to protest, but Kallian stepped off before he could do so. The bridge piece remained.

“Good,” Elissa said. “Now find the next one.”

Alistair and Kallian filled in the bridge piece by piece until it was completed, and they followed Elissa across. The door in front of them revealed a long hallway, and they could see a fire burning at the end of it.

“A cozy fire seems like just the thing right now,” Alistair murmured. The temple was awfully chilly.

When they reached the room, their eyes were drawn past the fire, to a set of stairs with a small altar and a beautiful sculpture of Andraste at the top. A shaft of light shone down on it, giving the altar a heavenly glow.

“The ashes must be there,” Elissa said softly.

Kallian motioned before them. “We have to get through this first.”

The fire they had seen was a barrier across the entire room. Before them was a small podium with an inscription.

“Cast off the trappings of worldly life and cloak yourself in the goodness of spirit. King and slave, lord and beggar, be born anew in the Maker’s sight,” Alistair read.

“We have to get… naked?” Elissa asked, blushing hard.

Alistair blushed too, unable to reply.

“Sure sounds that way,” Kallian said with an annoyed huff. “No looking,” she added, and began to remove her leather armor.

Alistair looked away immediately, blushing harder than ever as he began to remove his own equipment. He could see Kallian out of the corner of his eye, approaching the flames and passing through them.

“Hurry up,” she said through the flames. “It’s cold as balls to be naked in here!”

He tried not to peek as Elissa went through, and then followed after, protecting his most sensitive parts with his hands. As soon as he passed through, the flames extinguished themselves.

In their place appeared the guardian. “You have been through the trials of the gauntlet, you have walked the path of Andraste, and like her, you have been blessed. You have proven yourselves worthy, pilgrims. Approach the sacred ashes.” With that, he disappeared again.

The three of them each went for their clothes and gear first, before turning to approach the altar together. Now that they were closer, they could see the urn before the statue. While the carvings were well-done, it was less ornate or showy than any of them had imagined.

“You do it, Kallian,” Elissa whispered, nudging the elf. “We wouldn’t be here without you.”

While Kallian wasn’t sure that was true, she could see she was least affected of the three of them. Elissa’s eyes were wide and seemed nervous. Alistair looked like he was muttering a prayer.

Kallian stepped forward, kneeling down in front of the urn. She took a small leather pouch from her belt. Her heart pounded a little as she lifted the lid of the urn, as if she’d expected something to happen.

But it was just an urn, and these were just ashes. She reached in, pulled out a small pinch, and deposited it within the leather pouch. Standing, she handed the pouch to Elissa.

“Don’t lose that,” she said, and Elissa gave a nervous laugh.

“Let’s go,” Kallian said, moving down the stairs. “We need to get Morrigan back down to Wynne.”

With a last glance at Andraste’s altar, they left the temple.

…


	15. Chapter 15

Morrigan was awake and alert when they returned to the temple’s entrance. She’d exhausted her own limited healing capabilities, but it was enough for her to walk back with some help. She seemed more irritated at herself than angry at Kallian for landing her in this situation.

Though Leliana wanted to hear about their experience, Kallian said she only wanted to tell it once. So they saved the story for their return to the others.

Genitivi was in awe when Elissa opened the pouch for him to see the ashes. Wynne touched the pouch with trembling hands and said a prayer. Sten said nothing, seeming eager to leave.

They wouldn’t leave quite yet, however. They planned to camp out in the great hall for the night, giving Wynne some time to heal Morrigan and for all of them to get some rest. Knowing that they’d killed everything dangerous in the building, a few of them took the time to explore the side passages and rooms for anything interesting.

“Look what I found,” Leliana said, grinning as she returned to their little camp. “Wine!”

Wynne’s eyes lit up. Morrigan scoffed. “That wine is probably ancient. It would be vinegar by now.”

“Alcoholic vinegar,” Kallian said, sidling up to Leliana.

“Wrong,” Leliana said. “I found it in the bunk room. It belonged to the cultists!”

“Is there more where that came from?” Elissa asked. “One bottle is hardly enough for all of us.”

Leliana smiled.

…

A few hours later, they were all a little tipsy, full of wine and dinner, and the others were listening intently as Kallian, Alistair, and Elissa finished telling the tale of their experience in the Gauntlet.

“You had to get naked?” Leliana giggled.

“And it was bloody cold in that temple too!” Kallian said indignantly. This set off another round of laughter.

“After we put our clothes back on,” Elissa redirected, blushing slightly, “We were able to approach the ashes. There was a set of stairs up to an altar where the urn sat, before a statue of Andraste. A shaft of light came down from a skylight, making everything glow. It was beautiful.”

“I wish I could have seen it,” Wynne said sadly.

Leliana took the older woman’s hand. “We can come back.” She, too, had longing in her eyes.

“I plan to,” said Genitivi. “The chantry should know about this. I will see about leading an official expedition once the darkspawn are dealt with.”

Wynne smiled. “A noble plan. This place should not be forgotten.”

At this, Kallian cleared her throat. “Before we get too morose, I propose a game.” She laid down one of the empty bottles in front of her. “Truth or dare.”

Most of the others were familiar with the game, but Sten frowned and Morrigan let out a huff. “I have not heard of this game,” she said. “Explain.”

Leliana jumped in. “Everyone takes turns, and when it’s your turn, you choose whether you want truth or dare. If you choose truth, you have to answer any one question truthfully. If dare, you have to complete a dare. Something like… kissing Alistair, or dancing like a chicken, or maybe taking your top off.” She wiggled her eyebrows suggestively.

“And if I choose not to do so?” Morrigan asked.

“Then you’re stuck with truth,” she said with a shrug.

“As fascinating as this promises to be,” Wynne said with a little smile, “I think the brother and I will sit it out.” She motioned to Genitivi next to her. “We have many things to discuss.”

“Is everyone else in?” Kallian asked. “It’s more fun with more people.”

She raised a brow when Sten came and sat by her. “I always answer truthfully,” he said. “This is not much of a game.”

“What are qunari games like?” Leliana asked curiously.

He stared at her for a moment. “Not like this.”

Elissa squeezed Alistair’s hand, grinning at him. He hadn’t felt so lighthearted in months. He was a little nervous, but he hoped it would be fun. Just as long as Morrigan wasn’t the one daring him.

“Okay, here’s how we’re going to do this,” Kallian said, once the participants were in a small circle. She motioned to the wine bottle on the ground in front of her. “We spin the bottle. If the bottle lands on you, you’re it. The last person who was it gets to ask the question. Simple. I’ll start, since the game was my idea.” She grinned, and spun.

Alistair groaned as the bottle landed on him. Kallian’s grin turned into a smirk.

“Dare,” he said, thinking he’d rather do something embarrassing than spill all his secrets.

“I dare you to do an interpretive dance to the lyrics of the Buxom Maid of Rainesfere.” This set off a burst of laughter—this particular tavern song was known for its rather bawdy lyrics. “And, of course,” she added, “You have to sing.”

Alistair regretted his decision already. Or maybe not, he thought, seeing Elissa’s eyes alight with laughter. Seeing her this happy, maybe the embarrassment was worth it.

Maybe.

As they kept drinking, they got more and more into it. Kallian seemed like almost a whole new person drunk, as if the angry armor she always wore had fallen away. Morrigan seemed to enjoy the challenge of the game, though she refused to answer a single truth. Sten, on the other hand, seemed uninterested in doing dares as he didn’t “see the point of it”. No matter how embarrassing the questions the others came up with, he would answer them in his own nonchalant way.

“Truth or dare, Kallian?” Elissa asked, leaning heavily against Alistair’s side. A half-empty wine bottle dangled from his fingers, and she grabbed it to take a sip.

“Truth,” Kallian said, laying spread-eagle on the ground, peering through an empty bottle at her.

Elissa grinned. “Did you peek at Alistair when we took our clothes off in the Gauntlet?”

Kallian stared at her a moment before grinning back. “Yes I did! And you know what?” she asked, sitting up. “He has a great ass!”

Elissa burst into giggles while Alistair turned beet red. “He does, doesn’t he?” she said. She leaned over and stage whispered, “I peeked too!”

Alistair was turning a shade of red that couldn’t possibly be healthy, but neither woman seemed to notice as they were consumed by their laughter.

“Wait,” Leliana said slowly. “But you share a tent with Alistair every night. You’ve never seen him naked before today?” She sounded baffled.

It was Elissa’s turn to blush. “It’s comp—complicated,” she said, stumbling through the word. “I’m a lady,” she added with a nod, leaning back against him again.

“We can’t,” Alistair managed to say. “Not until we’re married. Mmmmmmarried,” he repeated. “Isn’t that a funny word? Married…” He trailed off, looking away, and mouthed the word to himself again.

“So you’re a virgin?” Morrigan asked, her eyes dancing with some private amusement.

“I don’t know what that word means,” Elissa replied, frowning.

Leliana let out a sigh. “You’re so sweet and innocent, I could just pinch your cheeks!”

Elissa slapped her hands over her cheeks as if to protect them. “Noooo.”

Alistair came out of his reverie and leaned forward on his hands. “Have you ever been married, Leliana?”

Elissa tipped over onto the ground as Alistair no longer held her up.

“No,” said Leliana, “But you don’t have to be married to have sex! I’ll have plenty advice for the two of you when the time comes!” She, Morrigan, and Kallian all cackled at that.

“I was supposed to be married,” Kallian volunteered. Everyone looked at her, surprised. “But then Vaughn Kendells killed my future husband and then I killed him,” she said matter-of-factly.

“I’m sorry,” Leliana said, eyes wide.

Kallian shrugged. “Arranged marriage. And then Duncan recruited me because he saw how badass I was.”

Elissa sat up. “You killed Vaughn Kendells?”

“Yeah, did you know him?” Kallian asked.

“He was _horrible_!” Elissa said in wonderment. “You killed Vaughn Kendells!”

“Yeah,” Kallian said again, looking at Elissa like she was crazy.

Elissa smiled wide. “I could just hug you for that!”

“No,” said Kallian, backing away on her hands. “No no no no no.”

“I’m going to hug you!” Elissa started trying to stand up, tipping over more than once in the process.

Kallian scrambled to get up before Elissa did, managing it just moments before the woman reached her. Before long Elissa was chasing her around the room while Kallian tried to escape her. There was screeching and giggling, and a lot of falling over.

Morrigan rolled her eyes at their antics, but Leliana smiled. Alistair gazed after Elissa with stars in his eyes.

“I love her,” Alistair said. “Love love love.”

“Aww!” Leliana said. “That’s so sweet.”

“I think I need to vomit,” said Morrigan.

“I got you!” said Elissa as she finally caught the protesting elf, hugging her tight amidst Kallian’s protests.

“You know,” Elissa confided, her arms still around Kallian. “You’re not so bad when you’re drunk.”

“Yeah,” Kallian said, as she stopped fighting to escape. “You’re not so bad when I’m drunk either.”

When dawn came the next morning, it found the party strewn around the room, half-clothed, some still cradling bottles. Though several were hungover, most of them had to admit it had been worth it to unwind a little.

After a slow start, they began the trek back to Redcliffe, in hopes that their time collecting the ashes had not been wasted.

…


	16. Chapter 16

They were all glad to be back in civilization by the time the party reached Redcliffe. Teagan and Isolde met them at the gate, Isolde barely able to contain herself in anticipation.

“Did you find the ashes?” she asked anxiously. “Were you successful?”

“We were,” Kallian told her. “And have you held up your end of the bargain? Have the knights been recalled?”

“Yes,” she answered. “Many have returned already. All will be here by the time you need them. The ashes?” She held out her hand.

Elissa stepped forward and placed the small leather pouch in Isolde’s outstretched palm. “They’re here. How do you want to do this?”

“We will give them to his healers,” Isolde announced. “They will determine what to do.”

The healers were consulted, and before long all who were interested in the process had crowded into Eamon’s chambers to watch and wait. In the end, there was very little waiting. When the ashes had been applied, Eamon roused almost immediately, asking for his wife and son. Isolde, who was by his side, began to explain the recent happenings in Redcliffe. The others slipped out to give them some time alone.

A handful of hours passed before Teagan sought out Alistair, Kallian, and Elissa, telling them Arl Eamon wished to hold a meeting.

“Your highness,” Eamon greeted Alistair formally, looking impeccably well, as if he had never been confined to a sickbed. “Lady Cousland,” he continued. Elissa blinked hard at the title, but couldn’t protest it, not with her parents dead. He turned to Kallian. “And this must be the grey warden who saved my life. I am at your service, warden.”

“As long as your army is at my service,” Kallian replied.

“Yes,” he said. “Teagan has begun to explain everything that has happened during my illness. My army will be at your service, Warden Kallian, and myself as well, in any way that I might be of use. We will need to face Loghain in the political arena, and the darkspawn in the martial once. This is a war on two fronts.”

Kallian gave a sharp nod but no answer.

“I hope you’ll be able to help us,” Elissa spoke up. “Loghain was one of Cailan’s most trusted. There is no doubt he knew of Cailan’s plans to make Alistair his heir. This cannot be anything but a coup.”

Eamon nodded. “Indeed. It seems out of character for Loghain, but we cannot doubt his intentions. I believe he meant for you both to be killed at Ostagar to make way for him. Cailan mentioned to me that he had drawn up an official Writ of Succession, declaring his intentions to have Alistair succeed him. We need to attempt to lay hands on a copy of it. Then we can present this at an emergency session of the Landsmeet, which I will call myself.”

“When?” Alistair choked out, wracked with anxiety at the thought of ruling.

Eamon glanced at Kallian. “Best wait until we are prepared to face the darkspawn and have gathered as many allies as possible. What further treaties do you possess, Warden?”

Kallian startled at being addressed. “I have one for the Dalish elves and one for Orzammar.”

He nodded. “Then you must see those through, and I will ensure the Landsmeet is called once they are complete. But first things first…” Eamon paused, turning to Alistair and Elissa.

“You must marry immediately,” he said firmly. “And produce an heir as soon as may be.”

Alistair felt his cheeks starting to burn. Daring a glance at Elissa, he could see she looked as embarrassed as he felt.

Not that it would be a hardship, exactly—their kisses and touches had become more and more heated as time passed, sorely testing their self-control. But it was the height of embarrassment to have Eamon all but ordering them to sleep together!

“When?” Elissa managed to ask.

“I believe the day after tomorrow will suit admirably,” Eamon replied. “I’m sure we can have all the preparations completed by then.”

Alistair felt detached as he watched the blood drain from Elissa’s face. His heart was racing. He needed air.

“I have to, um….” He trailed off, unable to think of any kind of excuse as he ran from the room.

…

Alistair stared out the castle window, contemplating his situation. He’d known for some time that he would marry Elissa, and he’d been happy about that. But it had always seemed distant, something off in the future. Somehow he had thought he’d have felt _ready_ by the time it actually happened. Right now he didn’t feel ready at all. He didn’t know how to be a good husband or—Maker preserve him—a father. And yet, that fear was tempered with a strong dose of longing. To be married to Elissa… to be a _family_ with her… it was more than he could have dreamed of back in his Chantry days.

Alistair blinked as he caught sight of Elissa walking in the courtyard below him. Her long hair streamed out behind her as she paced back and forth, tension radiating from her posture. He couldn’t see her downturned face, but he knew she must be distressed.

Alistair stood from the window seat, knowing he should go to her. They needed to talk about this. And he should apologize for running away earlier, leaving her to deal with Eamon alone. They’d stood by each other’s side to face whatever may come since Howe attacked Castle Cousland. He was sure they could face this too, as long as they did it together.

…

By the time Alistair reached the courtyard, he found her sitting on the edge of a low wall, twining a long piece of blonde hair in her fingers. Her expression was blank, as if she was a thousand miles away. The dress she wore fluttered in the soft breeze. She’d rarely been out of armor since starting this adventure, but they were due for dinner with Eamon and Isolde soon.

“Are you okay?” he asked.

She startled slightly, turning to look at him. “I don’t know,” she answered. “It all seems terribly fast, doesn’t it?”

Alistair sat down on the wall next to her, shoulder to shoulder. His hands gripped the cool stone on either side of him. “Scary fast,” he said honestly. “I’m sorry about running away earlier.”

She shook her head. “Don’t be. I wanted to run, too. I’m scared, Alistair.”

He looked at her, surprised.

“Well, aren’t I allowed to be?” she demanded, bumping her shoulder against his arm.

“Of course you are!” Alistair said quickly. “But you always seem so confident. You’re so good at politics and being noble, and it’s all so new for me.”

“This isn’t politics,” she said. “Not yet anyways. I’m afraid of being a wife. What if I’m no good at it?”

Alistair huffed a laugh. “What if I’m no good at being a husband?”

She leaned into him. “You will,” she said, sounding sure. “You’re so kind and caring to me. You kept me alive those first few days after my parents…” Her voice faltered. “You’ll be wonderful.”

“You did the same for me after Ostagar. You’ll be perfect,” Alistair promised, his voice low. “And if we’re not good at it, we’ll learn together, won’t we?”

She tilted her head up and smiled. “Thank you,” she said, and her arms went around him. He slipped an arm behind her back, and they stayed that way in silence until they were called in for dinner.

…

The following day was taken up with wedding preparations. Finding and altering clothing, securing the village priest for the ceremony, decorating the chantry with flowers. The castle cooks were baking up a storm. The entire village was glad to have something to celebrate after the terrible days and nights that they had barely survived.

Alistair and Elissa hardly saw each other, wrapped up in their own preparations, until Elissa snuck into his bed that night. It was the last time she would have to do so, tiptoeing through the darkened halls to steal kisses and embraces in the dark. The next morning they were whisked apart, to be bathed, dressed and primped within an inch of their lives.

Before Alistair knew it, he was standing at the front of the chantry waiting for his bride.

When the doors opened to reveal her, Alistair had no eyes for anyone else. She was radiantly beautiful in her borrowed gown, golden hair flowing down her back and soft green eyes locked on his. She held a bouquet of white flowers before her, a gauzy veil softening her features and streaming behind.

The priest recited the same ceremony that many had done before. Alistair couldn’t say he remembered much of it afterwards. The one part he would never forget was the way Elissa’s eyes widened as she recognized the rings that they would exchange. Alistair had kept them safe since Eleanor handed them to him in the Highever vault. Her eyes filled with tears that didn’t spill, as she looked at Alistair and mouthed, “Thank you.”

Alistair knew his voice trembled as he said his vows, hands shaking as he slipped the ring on her finger. He saw matching nerves in his bride’s eyes and was comforted. They were in this, as always, together.

The ceremony ended as Alistair lifted Elissa’s veil and met her lips in a kiss to seal their union, Arl Eamon looking on like the proud father he wasn’t. Teagan congratulated Alistair with a grin and a clap on the arm. Isolde gave him a tight smile and sent Elissa a more genuine one.

Their party looked on with varying reactions. It was amusing to see them in formal wear that most of them had no doubt protested wearing. Leliana looked dangerously teary-eyed even after the ceremony had concluded. Morrigan told him he could have done much worse, which, from her, was probably meant to be a compliment. Sten had looked uncomfortable and Kallian fidgety, but Wynne gave them both warm and enthusiastic congratulations before letting them leave the chantry.

The celebratory banquet lasted for hours. There was food and drink and dancing all day and evening, and it would continue late into the night, well after Alistair and Elissa were escorted to their marriage bed.

Eamon and Isolde closed the door behind them with a strange finality as the newlyweds were left alone for the first time.

Alistair and Elissa stood on either side of the bed, still in their borrowed finery. They were unmoving, watching one another, full of nerves for the night ahead.

Elissa touched the ring on her wedding finger. “Alistair…” She hesitated.

“Yes?” he replied, hardly more than a whisper.

“I’ve tried to show you, but don’t think I’ve told you before.” She looked down at the ornate rug, her heart racing. “I… I love you. I think I have for a long time.”

Alistair looked at her in awe. “Maker, Elissa, I can’t tell you how it feels to hear that. I feel like I’ve loved you for so long.”

Before they knew it, they had come together at the foot of the bed, their lips meeting in a passionate kiss. Things progressed naturally, and unlike every night before, there was no need to stop. They came together as one, and loved each other late into the night.

In the dark they talked, speaking of hopes and fears and memories for what seemed like hours. They bared their souls to one another, feeling connected in a way they never had before.

“Tell me truly,” Alistair said, kissing his wife’s temple. “When did you first begin to care for me?”

She blushed. “I admired you when I saw you fighting in the tournament. I was dreadfully disappointed that you fought for the templars. It was a shame for someone so handsome to be celibate,” she teased, and they both laughed. “When my father told me who you were and that you were coming home with us, it seemed too good to be true. I knew my heart would be in danger. But I hoped…”

“You hoped what?” he asked.

“I hoped that Cailan would choose me for you. I tried to guard my heart, not knowing what would happen. When he told us, I was fearful and excited and pleased all at once.”

“Fearful?” Alistair asked, stroking her soft cheek with his fingers.

“That you wouldn’t care for me the way I was starting to for you.”

“I think I already did,” he said, and leaned forward to kiss her.

“What about you, then?” she asked. “When did you begin to love me?”

“I thought you were beautiful from the first time we were introduced,” he said. “But I think I truly began to fall for you the first time I saw you fighting in the courtyard at Highever.”

She laughed. “Really? My mother would be shocked. She always told me the softer arts were what would land me a husband.”

He smiled. “Truly. And I’ll never forget the look you gave me when I asked you about it.”

“I was a little insulted, I must admit,” she said, a smile in her voice. “When I pulled out my bow and arrows that first time, I was showing off for you. Never question a lady’s prowess with weapons or she might just use them on you.”

He laughed. “I’ll remember that for future reference.”

“The truth is,” she said, turning serious, “I felt hope for my future the first time when I met you.”

“Liss…”

“Alistair.” Her soft green eyes were wide in the near darkness. “I always knew I would have to marry one day. But I never met anyone I could imagine a future with until you.”

He answered that the only way he could—with a kiss. He then rolled atop her, she giggled, and they made love once more.

…


	17. Chapter 17

When Elissa peeked out the cracked doorway the morning after the wedding, her dog, laying in front of the doorway, raised his head and gazed at her mournfully.

“Don’t give me that look, Kitty,” she said. “It was my wedding night! You really didn’t want to be in there with us.”

Kitty gave a low whine. Elissa kneeled down to pet him. “It doesn’t mean I love you any less,” she cajoled him. “It just means you have Alistair to pester now as well as me.”

By the glimmer in Kitty’s eyes, Elissa began to wonder if maybe that had been the wrong thing to say.

She straightened at the sight of a servant in the corridor. “Excuse me,” she said softly. “Could you draw a bath for us, please? And find out what time Eamon plans to serve breakfast?”

The servant nodded and quickly moved on.

Elissa returned to bed and her new husband, snuggling up to his naked form.

“Mmm,” he said, reaching under her nightgown.

“They’re bringing up bathwater in a minute,” she told him. “You’re going to have to dress. I don’t want to share my husband with the servants.”

“One day I’ll take you on a real honeymoon,” he said, nuzzling her hair. “And we won’t have to get up at all.”

“I’ll hold you to that,” she said, tightening her arms around him.

When the newlyweds came down to breakfast, there was a bit of gentle teasing. But Alistair was too happy to care. Why had he been so nervous about marriage? Marriage was fantastic! He dug into his breakfast with a gusto that only served to create more amusement for his companions. Squeezing his wife’s hand under the table, Alistair ignored them and was content.

…

Within a couple days of the wedding Kallian was anxious to move on, to continue gathering the forces needed to defeat the darkspawn. As they were making preparations to leave, Eamon asked Alistair and Elissa to come see him.

“I recommend you continue to travel with the Warden,” Eamon told Alistair and Elissa. “This way Loghain won’t know where to find you. If you remain in one place, Alistair, it is anyone’s guess who or what he might send after you.”

Alistair nodded. They had planned to do so anyway. This was something he and Elissa felt they should see through.

“But please,” Eamon said, “let me reiterate to you to be cautious of your own safety, and be thorough in your attempts to beget an heir.”

Elissa and Alistair both blushed at this, but Eamon ignored it as he continued.

“I do have another request of you,” the arl continued. “While you are on your journey, if you find yourselves near the battlefield at Ostagar, see if you can find Cailan’s chest. It would have been in his tent, and hopefully still remains at the camp. He feared what could happen on the battlefield and would have kept a copy of his Writ of Succession close at hand. I do not possess a copy, and it would be to our benefit to have one.”

Elissa nodded. “I believe Kallian intends to go to the Brecilian Forest next. Perhaps we can ask her to make the stop on our way back.”

“Please do,” Eamon said. “The succession is the most important thing right now. Ferelden needs stability. We are only one generation removed from the Orlesian occupation. While I encourage you to make overtures of friendship to all our neighboring nations, including Orlais, Ferelden needs the stability that a clear line of succession can provide. You must survive your adventure, and you _must_ beget an heir. For Ferelden’s sake.”

“I understand,” Alistair managed, despite his embarrassment.

“That is all I ask,” Eamon said, ignoring the blushes on the newlyweds’ faces. “Good luck on your journey.”

…

After a long day of travel, Alistair and Elissa retired to their shared tent together. They’d only had a couple nights to honeymoon at Redcliffe castle before Kallian had demanded they move on and head towards getting their next treaty fulfilled.

Elissa undressed silently in the tent, anxiety mounting about the night ahead. Not that she didn’t want to continue exploring the body of her new husband—he was _gorgeous_, tan and muscled and strong, and a whole new world of pleasure had opened up to her since their wedding night. But there was one thing that made her hesitate. She stiffened when Alistair pulled her close.

“My love?” he asked, worried at her sudden change in mood.

“How are we supposed to do this with all of them just outside the tent?” Elissa whispered frantically. “They know we’re in here trying to… make a baby.”

“We can be quiet, love,” Alistair said, stroking her arm.

“But they’ll still know! How are we supposed to do this with them out there _knowing_?”

Alistair was silent for a moment before answering. “Liss, they’re going to assume we’re doing _that_, no matter what they hear or don’t hear. So when you think of it that way, it doesn’t really matter what we do!”

Elissa huffed. “Was that supposed to reassure me?”

Alistair let out a chuckle. Something about their marriage had seemed to bolster his confidence. He didn’t seem as unsure as he had a mere two days ago.

“Let me help you forget them,” he said, his hand sliding down her bare back. “Please?”

Elissa gazed into his warm amber eyes, bit her lip, and nodded. And while they didn’t quite manage to be silent, Alistair was successful in making her forget about any audience they might have outside the tent.

…

The next morning the party continued their march towards the Brecilian forest, making good time until a bedraggled woman came running down the path towards them.

“Please!” she cried. “We need help! They’ve attacked the wagon! Hurry!”

Alistair and Elissa, at the front of the group, started running.

Leliana, watching from the back, grabbed Kallian’s arm. “Something isn’t right,” she hissed quickly.

Kallian met her eyes for a brief moment, then shook her head. “Bloody innocent fools!” she growled before jogging after them. “Alistair! Elissa, stop!”

Leliana and the others followed, readying their weapons. As she came around a bend in the road, she saw an overturned wagon, seemingly deserted. And then a cracking sound made her look up.

A giant tree trunk fell from above, dangerously close to landing atop her. She pulled her bow taut, looking quickly around. There! She saw someone moving in the shadows of the overturned wagon.

“Trap!” she cried, and fired.

At once, a dozen men and women appeared from hiding places all around and began to attack.

“The Grey Warden dies here!” said one as he sent a dagger spinning towards Kallian’s head. With lightning quick reflexes, Kallian deflected it with her own dagger and went on the attack.

Leliana stayed near the downed tree, keeping an eye on the battlefield and firing arrow after arrow at those who threatened her friends. The attackers seemed focused on Kallian more than anyone. Whoever sent them either didn’t care about Alistair or didn’t want to risk spreading the knowledge of his identity. The latter seemed most likely, unless the Wardens had more enemies than Leliana knew.

When the road was strewn with the bodies of their enemies, they walked around and took stock. Leliana was checking pockets, looking to see if anyone had been foolish enough to write down their orders. Kallian was checking pockets too, though probably for gold rather than information.

“Hey,” the Warden said, nudging one attacker with her boot. “This one’s not quite dead.”

Leliana came over to take a look. He was elven, tanned and blonde with tattooing on his face that didn’t quite look Dalish. His leather armor was finely made, with a small sigil on it that sparked her memory.

“Should I finish him?” Sten rumbled from behind her.

Leliana held up her hand. “Stop.” Her heart was racing. “This is no ordinary murderer, no band of thieves. I believe this man is an Antivan Crow.”

“Really?” asked Elissa with interest, leaning in a bit closer. Alistair hovered worriedly behind her.

“What is that?” Kallian asked, impatient.

“The Antivan Crows are the most highly regarded guild of assassins in Thedas,” Leliana explained. “He told them to kill the warden. To kill you.” She tilted her head. “Don’t you want to know why?”

Kallian snorted. “I can make a guess. But maybe he has information to trade for his life.” She glanced from Sten to Wynne. “Tie him up. Heal his wounds enough that he won’t die before we’re done interrogating him.”

Sten’s knots may have been tighter than necessary, but neither he or Kallian cared about their assassin’s comfort. Wynne, not one to do a healing job halfway, cast magic over him until he looked as hale and hearty as ever. Leliana was glad of it, and hoped he would see reason. She had always disliked taking a life.

As Wynne finished healing him, the assassin began to come around. “Mmm… I… oh.” He blinked at the many faces staring down at him. “I rather thought I would wake up dead,” he said with a heavy Antivan accent. “Or not wake up at all, as the case may be. But I see you haven’t killed me yet.”

“That could change at any moment,” Kallian said, arms crossed as she glared down at him. “I have some questions.”

“Ah!” he replied brightly. “So I am to be interrogated? Let me save you some time. My name is Zevran Arainai, Zev to my friends. I am a member of the Antivan Crows, brought here for the sole purpose of killing the Grey Warden here and any who accompany her. Which… I have failed at, sadly.”

“Well that was easy,” Elissa murmured.

This attracted Zevran’s attention, and he turned his eyes to her, giving her a charming smile. She frowned, taking a step back. Alistair wrapped his hand around her arm protectively.

“Who sent you?” Kallian demanded bluntly.

“A rather taciturn man in the capitol. Tall, angry. Loghain was his name.”

“Are you loyal to him?” she asked immediately.

Zevran shrugged the best he could despite his bindings. “I have no idea what his issues are with you. You threaten his power, I imagine?” He paused a moment, but didn’t wait for an answer. “I was contracted to perform a service. I am not loyal to him.”

“And now that you’ve failed?” Kallian snapped out, her dark eyes hard.

He tilted his head. “Well, that’s between Loghain and the Crows. And then the Crows and myself.”

“Is Loghain expecting you to report back to him?”

Zevran shook his head. “If I had succeeded, I would have returned home and the Crows would have informed your Loghain of the results. If I had failed I would be dead… or I should be, as far as the Crows are concerned. If they hear reports of my survival, they will ensure it.”

“What was the price of my life?” Kallian asked with false lightness. “I’m curious.”

“I don’t know,” he said. “I’m sure the Crows were paid quite handsomely.”

“You don’t get the money?” Elissa jumped in to ask. “If they’re not paying you, why are you even a Crow?” She looked angry on his behalf, which was somewhat amusing considering he’d been trying to kill them a few minutes earlier.

“I suppose it’s because I wasn’t give much of a choice,” Zevran said slowly. “The Crows bought me young. The Crows aren’t so bad, though. They keep me well-supplied. Wine, women, men. Whatever I need. Though the whole severance package is garbage.”

“And you’re telling us this why?” Kallian demanded.

“Well, why not?” he said, amused. “She asked, and I was not paid for my silence.”

Kallian shrugged and glanced at the others. “So we’ve got a chatty failed assassin. What should we do with him?”

“I have a proposal for you,” the assassin spoke up from his place on the ground, before anyone else could answer. “If you do not mind…”

Kallian crossed her arms. “This should be good.”

Ignoring her, Zevran explained. “Here’s the thing. My life is forfeit. If you don’t kill me, the Crows will. Even if you let me go, they’ll catch up to me eventually. But I like living, and you are the type to give the Crows pause. So let me serve you instead.”

“You have no loyalty to them?” Leliana spoke for the first time.

“I happen to be a very loyal person… up until I’m expected to die for failure. Somehow I don’t see you treating your companions in such a way.” His eyes focused on Kallian. Despite her small stature, it was obvious that everyone in the group deferred to her.

“And what’s to stop you from trying to kill us later?” Alistair asked over his wife’s shoulder.

“As I said, I like living. I might get a few of you,” Zev said, looking around at them, “but I doubt I’ll make it out alive.”

Kallian, who had been watching him silently, nodded. “Untie him,” she ordered, and turned to Sten. “And you… watch him.”

Leliana relaxed a little, satisfied. She was glad to give him a second chance… even though she’d be watching him too.

…

Leliana kept an eye on Zevran as they traveled the rest of the day. He seemed an interesting character.

Kallian, more annoyed than angry about his earlier attempt at murder, seemed to enjoy bossing him around to see if he’d do what she said. He followed her every whim and order to the letter, smiling to himself as if the tasks provided him with some sort of private amusement.

His sharp eyes seemed to study each of the companions in turn as they walked. From what Leliana could see, he was trying to determine what kind of threat each posed to him. His eyes lingered a little longer on Morrigan and Alistair, and he spent a much longer time surveying Elissa’s figure, or what he could see of it despite the armor.

Noticing her friend’s discomfort at his blatant perusal, Leliana sidled up to the assassin.

“She’s married,” she said quietly, raising a brow at him.

“That need not be an obstacle,” he said cheerfully.

“To a prince.” Her lips were twitching now.

“Which one?” he asked casually, glancing at her with a twinkle in his eye. “Some are more dangerous than others.”

“That one,” she said, pointing at Alistair who was glaring at Zevran and fingering his sword.

“Ah,” Zevran said, somehow both amused and disheartened. “How disappointing.”

…

**Author's Note:**

> Hi all, I hope you enjoy this new Dragon Age story! I’ve had this in the works for a while. Updates may be inconsistent, but I plan to do so at least once a month. While this story takes place throughout Origins, I hope I've added enough twists and changes to keep it fresh and interesting.
> 
> Thanks for reading and please leave a review if you are enjoying the story! Your words brighten my day and keep me motivated!


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